THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 


CONQUERORS  ALL 


CONQUERORS 
ALL 

BASED  ON  FACTS 

BY 

FRANCENA  HILL  HIGGINS 


"All  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players: 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances; 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  being  seven  ages." 

— As  You  Like  It. 


Published  by 

THE  GNOSTIC  PRESS 

San  Diego,  Cal. 
1917 


Copyright,  1917 

by* 
FRANCENA  HILL  HIGGINS 

San  Diego,  Cal. 


?$ 


DEDICATED  TO 
H.  R.  L. 

^  friend  for  many  a  long  year,  who, 
having  passed  beyond  the  borderland, 
sees,  'with  clearer  vision,  the  many 
things  we  could  not  understand.  He  it 
was  'who  ever  strove  to  encourage  me 
in  my  efforts,  and  of  this  book,  espe 
cially,  held  not  a  doubt  as  to  its  merit. 


"In  the  daily  lives  of  men  he  felt  an 
interest  deep  and  strong  for  those  who 
suffered  from  the  world's  great  wrongs. 
In  argument  clear,  in  friendship  ever 
true,  he  lived  his  life,  leaving  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  knew  him,  the 
surety  of  an  honest  friend." 

— Frank. 


967657 


Contents 


XIX. 

xx. 

XXI. 

XXII. 


PAGE 

THE  LANDING 9 

THE  SPIES 18 

A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION 27 

THE  RESCUE 38 

AT  THE  SILVER  MOON 47 

NEW  FRIENDS 57 

THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF 

D'EPERNON  68 

ON  THROUGH  TROUBLOUS  PICARDY  77 

WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY.  .  86 

A  DANGER  AVERTED 94 

THE  STORM 103 

PLANS  THWARTED 112 

A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 118 

THE  CHATEAU  DES  CLERES 126 

SIMON  DELIVERS  UP  His  TRUST.  ...  131 

THE  GOLDEN  MESHES  OF  LOVE.  . . .  138 

A  PERILOUS  JOURNEY  UNDERTAKEN  145 
AN  ORDEAL  PASSED  AND  PARIS 

REACHED 153 

A  COWARD'S  THREAT 160 

THE  FLIGHT 166 

THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET" 173 

AN  ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  A 

TIMELY  RETURN.  .  182 


CONTENTS 

XXIII.  THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT 192 

XXIV.  THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS 200 

XXV.     A  DELAY  AND  A  DISTURBANCE 210 

XXVI.     A  STRANGE  DISAPPEARANCE 217 

XXVII.     ON  THE  TRAIL 224 

XXVIII.     TIDINGS  OF  HOPE 232 

XXIX.     AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  AND  A 

PROFFER  OF  PROTECTION 241 

XXX.     L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE 251 

XXXI.     THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER 

PARIS 264 

XXXII.     A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  AND  AN  UN 
TIMELY  INTERRUPTION 280 

XXXIII.     THE    SURPRISING    SOLUTION    OF   A 

PERPLEXING  PROBLEM.  .  .   293 


CONQUERORS  ALL 
CHAPTER  I. 
THE  LANDING 

"Take,   O,   take   those   lips   away." 
— Measure  for  Measure. 

In  crossing  the  channel  from  Southampton  to 
France,  Lady  Beatrice  had  proved  a  better 
sailor  than  even  her  father.  Though  adverse 
winds  had  made  the  passage  more  than  usually 
rough  and  tempestuous,  she  was  as  fresh  and 
sparkling  when  they  landed  at  a  small  fishing 
hamlet  near  the  mouth  of  the  Somme  as  a 
flower  wet  with  dew. 

Bess  was  less  fortunate  than  her  young  mis 
tress.  The  roses  in  her  cheeks  had  faded;  yet, 
when  chatting  with  Robert  of  Derwater,  she 
seemed  to  forget  the  motion  of  the  vessel. 

Before  The  Lively,  on  which  they  sailed,  had 
reached  the  Somme,  the  earl  with  his  retainers, 
and  Bess'  stout  yeoman,  were  put  ashore  that 
no  time  might  be  lost  in  joining  the  king  at 
Harfleur.  It  had  been  arranged  that  Lady 
Beatrice  should  push  rapidly  forward  to  her 
grand-dame's,  the  Duchess  of  Berry,  who  was 
expecting  her  at  the  great  castle  near  Agincourt. 
Here  she  was  to  remain  until  her  father's  return 
to  England.  On  the  road  she  was  to  be  the 
special  charge  of  old  Simon,  a  trusty  henchman 

9 


10  CONQUERORS  ALL 

of  Wotton,  who  had  been  born  on  the  estate,  as 
had  been  four  generations  before  him.  The 
earl  had  great  respect  for  his  sterling  honesty, 
his  courage  in  battle,  while  he  knew  that  every 
dependence  could  be  placed  on  his  devotion  to 
Lady  Beatrice.  It  was  Simon  who  had  taught 
her  to  ride  till  the  most  fiery  or  vicious  horse 
could  not  unseat  her.  From  him  she  had  learned 
many  a  cunning  trick  of  fence,  and  could  use 
the  shortbow  or  pistol  as  well  as  himself.  He 
experienced  as  much  pride  while  teaching  her 
as  though  she  were  to  be  the  heir  instead  of  the 
heiress  of  Wotton. 

The  earl  had  left  his  daughter  in  the  old 
henchman's  care,  confident  of  his  ability  to  pro 
tect  her,  while  from  among  his  followers  he  had 
picked  out  six  of  his  best  men.  They  were 
dressed  in  ;simple  homespun  and,  like  their 
leader,  were  well  armed.  Simon  was  naturally 
wary  and  fully  realized,  not  only  the  great 
trust  confided  to  his  care,  but  the  imperative 
necessity  of  constant  watchfulness.  The  Prov 
ince  of  Picardy,  through  which  they  must  jour 
ney,  was  comparatively  well  known  to  him. 
Lady  Beatrice,  who  was  self-reliant  and  fear 
less,  was  delighted  with  the  thought  that  her 
only  female  attendant  would  be  Bess.  This 
black-eyed  brier  had  also  been  born  on  the 
estate,  and  was  considered  by  her  young  mis 
tress  full  as  much  a  companion  as  maid. 

The  Earl  of  Wotton  was  scarce  twenty-eight 
when  his  Countess  died,  leaving  him  but  one 
child,  a  dainty  maiden  of  ten.  Long  and  earn- 


THE  LANDING  11 

estly  he  thought  of  his  high-spirited  daughter 
till,  at  last,  he  decided  to  bring  to  Wotton  Miss- 
tress  Montrose,  a  middle-aged  relative.  Among 
other  things,  this  estimable  spinster  did  not 
approve  of  her  young  charge  being  so  much  with 
old  Simon.  If  she  could  have  had  her  way,  the 
education  of  Lady  Beatrice  would  have  con 
sisted  of  those  housewifely  duties  and  accom 
plishments  which,  to  the  mind  of  Miss  Mont- 
rose,  every  true  gentlewoman  should  acquire. 

The  earl's  intention  was  to  have  Mistress 
Montrose  accompany  his  daughter  to  France, 
but  at  the  last  moment  she  pleaded  illness,  hav 
ing  an  overmastering  fear  of  the  channel. 

Lady  Beatrice's  novel  surroundings,  since 
leaving  the  ship,  had  awakened  a  lively  inter 
est.  Even  the  little  inn  at  which  they  break 
fasted  was  so  new  and  strange  that  she  scarcely 
took  time  to  eat.  Spitfire,  her  black  palfrey, 
had  been  sent  ashore  at  daylight  and  when,  after 
a  hasty  meal,  Simon  led  her  to  the  door,  Lady 
Beatrice  ran  to  her,  uttering  many  a  word  of 
endearment  as  she  fed  her  with  lumps  of  sugar. 

A  half  hour  later  the  whole  party  was  well 
started  on  their  journey.  It  was  a  beautiful 
morning,  the  sky  soft  and  blue,  with  here  and 
there  gossamer  clouds,  pinkish-white,  which,  as 
they  floated  hither  and  thither,  Lady  Beatrice 
likened  to  the  white  wings  of  angels.  The  sun, 
at  first  tempered  by  a  filmy  haze,  through  which 
it  scintillated,  at  last  shone  forth  brilliantly 
resplendent.  The  air  was  clear  and  crisp,  laden 
now  and  then  with  the  sweet  perfume  of  wine 


12  CONQUERORS  ALL 

and  fruit,  or  the  delicate  aroma  of  the  woods. 
She  could  feel  her  pulses  throb  and  beat  with 
new  life  as  she  inhaled  the  sweet  fragrances 
around  her.  Bess  shared  in  her  enjoyment;  the 
color  had  returned  to  her  cheeks;  once  again 
she  had  resumed  her  old  jaunty  manner.  Though 
a  good  horsewoman,  having  been  taught  at  Wot- 
ton,  she  was  yet  not  as  daring  as  her  young 
mistress. 

Quite  a  distance  had  been  covered  when,  at 
noon,  they  dismounted  for  luncheon  which 
Simon's  forethought  had  provided.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  the  horses,  too,  needed  rest:  all  were 
tired  and  hungry. 

Lady  Beatrice  was  much  surprised  at  the 
loneliness  of  the  road  over  which  they  had 
come;  she  had  seen  no  one,  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  dirty  children  near  a  tumble-down  hut. 
Not  till  they  had  turned  a  bend  in  the  road, 
just  before  dismounting,  had  either  she  or  Simon 
caught  sight  of  a  large  chateau  on  a  high  hill 
to  the  left.  This  the  noonday  sun  brought  into 
bold  relief  against  its  dark  background  of  ever 
greens. 

"My  lady,"  said  Simon,  "it  might  be  well  for 
us  to  get  under  shelter  as  speedily  as  possible. 
Yonder  is  a  chateau,  and  we  know  not  who  may 
pass  along  the  road.  Do  you  not  hear  the 
trickle  of  a  brook?  We  will  picket  the  horses 
well  beneath  the  shade  of  trees." 

"As  you  will,  Simon.  I  care  not  how  deep 
we  go  into  the  forest,  for  the  sun  hath  been  o'er 


THE  LANDING  13 

warm  on  my  back.  Come,  Bess,  let  us  search 
for  the  stream." 

"But,  Lady  Beatrice,  do  you  think  it  safe  to 
press  onward  so  fast?  Had  we  not  better  wait 
for  Simon  to  come  up?" 

"For  Simon!  I  should  think,  Bess,  you  had 
never  before  strolled  in  the  woods.  What!  are 
you  af eared  of  your  shadow?  Yonder  is  a 
sunny  glade  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  brook  of 
which  Simon  spoke,  gurgles  through  it.  There's 
where  I  intend  to  have  my  noonday  meal.  I 
am  glad  to  get  this  hot  mask  from  my  face,  and 
to  breathe  something  besides  dust.  Hasten!  I 
have  heard  neither  of  giants  nor  of  lions  in  the 
forests  of  France. 

"Is  not  this  a  delightful  spot !  Look,  how  the 
sunbeams  fleck  those  leaves,  turning  them  to 
copper.  See  how  limpid  the  stream !  Fill  me  a 
cup  with  its  sparkling  water,  then  wet  a  napkin, 
that  I  may  bathe  my  face  and  hands." 

"But,  my  lady,  if  you  expose  your  face  in  the 
open  air,  you  will  spoil  your  complexion:  that 
would  be  a  pity." 

"Do  you  think,  Bess,  I  intend  to  go  without 
bathing  until  I  reach  my  grand-dame's?" 

"No,  Lady  Beatrice.  But  surely  you  will  stay 
at  an  inn  this  night?" 

"I  do  not  know  as  to  that,  Bess.  If  the 
horses  can  hold  out,  after  a  rest,  I  see  no  reason 
why  at  dusk  we  should  not  press  on.  My 
father  was  desirous  I  should  not  tarry  longer 
on  the  road  than  I  need." 

Just  then  Simon  joined  them  where  they  were 


14  CONQUERORS  ALL 

sitting  beneath  the  shade  of  a  wide-spreading 
beech.  With  him  were  Andrew  and  Saul  bear 
ing  between  them  well  filled  saddle-bags.  Bess 
laid  on  the  green  moss  a  square  of  fine  napery, 
upon  which  she  neatly  arranged  a  substantial 
meal.  Lady  Beatrice,  with  well  sharpened 
appetite,  greatly  enjoyed  her  cold  capon. 

"Sit  down,  Bess :  sit  down  and  help  yourself. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  the  length  of  our  table — 
you  are  below  the  salt.  By  my  faith  !  It  is  you 
who  could  improve  your  complexion  were  you  to 
wash  your  face!  What  say  you  to  that,  Bess?" 

"Say,  my  lady?  No  doubt  the  water  might 
feel  cool  and  pleasant,  but  if  advice  is  worth 
giving,  it  is  worth  following." 

"As  you  will,  Bess:  yet  it  might  be  well, 
advice  or  no  advice.  One  would  think  it  July, 
instead  of  early  September.  I  could  find  plea 
sure  in  watching  the  lights  and  shades  through 
these  tall  trees,  and  in  listening  to  the  babbling 
of  this  little  brook  for  hours,  were  not  the 
road  so  long  before  us.  See,  how  the  sun 
beams  dance  like  sportive  sprites  through  that 
dark  hemlock.  Look  at  that  striped  bug  with 
its  rainbow  gossamer  wings  tipped  with  gold. 
This  is  a  veritable  fairy  grotto.  I  could  imagine 
the  little  folk  tripping  many  a  fantastic  measure 
over  this  green  velvety  moss,  'neath  the  witch 
ing  light  of  the  lustrous  moon.  It  makes  me 
think  of  England;  of  that  bosky  dell  in  the 
Wotton  forest,  where  we  had  that  merry  time 
last  June. 

"Do  you  remember  when  Sir  Harry  Hastings 


THE  LANDING  15 

paid  you  that  pretty  compliment,  without  think 
ing  that  I  heard  him?  Do  not  blush,  Bess.  No 
one  could  blame  him  for  taking  a  kiss  off  so 
rosy  a  cheek  as  yours.  Poor  man!  He  did  not 
know  what  an  elfish  temper  you  have.  It  was 
fun  for  me  to  ask  him  what  made  his  right 
cheek  look  so  red.  He  e'en  had  the  grace  to 
blush  when  I  asked,  'Hath  the  sun  burned  your 
face?'  Did  you  not  see  how  he  brought  his 
brows  together  when  I  offered  him  my  silver 
mirror?  That  was  a  stinging  blow  you  dealt 
him,  for  across  the  red  of  his  face  were  white 
welts,  showing  the  imprint  of  your  fingers.  Has 
he  tried  it  since?" 

"No,  my  lady;  I  am  not  so  cheap  that  I  can 
be  kissed  by  every  man  who  comes  along,  be  he 
gentle  or  yeoman." 

"But  if  I  mistake  not,  Bess,  Robert  of  Der- 
water's  arm  was  around  your  waist  last  evening 
and,  to  judge  by  the  sound,  I  should  say  it  was 
not  your  cheek,  but  your  lips  he  kissed.  May 
hap  my  ears  were  overstrained,  for  the  report 
to  me  came  not  single,  but  as  though  you 
returned  it  in  full  measure — yet  not  with  your 
hand. 

"Canst  tell  me  how  it  seems  to  be  in  love? 
Do  you  have  burning  pains  about  your  heart? 
sharp  stitches  in  your  side?  shortness  of  breath? 
You  see,  I  would  like  to  know  the  symptoms, 
lest  little  Cupid  fly  his  arrow  at  me  and  take  me 
unawares.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  never  to 
love,  still  I  would  not  let  that  stand  in  the  way 


16  CONQUERORS  ALL 

of  others  loving  me.  Do  you  not  think  that  a 
wise  plan?" 

"Yes,  my  lady,  if  you  can.  But  if  you  meet 
the  right  one  you  will  not  ask  whether  you  love, 
for,  like  a  spark  to  tow,  the  fire  will  be  set 
ablaze  in  your  heart — at  least,  that's  what 
mother  told  me." 

"Your  mother,  Bess?  Art  sure  it  was  your 
mother?  But  here  comes  Simon  to  put  an  end 
to  our  merry  chatter:  we  must  prepare  for  the 
road.  Tie  on  my  mask  firmly,  for  fear  I  spoil 
that  complexion  of  mine." 

"Yes,  my  lady:  and  I,  too,  will  wear  a  mask. 
It  was  foolish  in  me  not  to  have  worn  it  this 
morn." 

"Laugh  on,  Lady  Beatrice.  I  like  to  hear 
you.  It  makes  me  think  of  Silvern  Falls,  where 
the  water  drips  into  the  basin  that  your  good 
father  calls  'My  Lady's  Bowl.'  ' 

"Thanks,  Bess,  for  your  flattery;  although 
'tis  too  sweet  to  be  true,  I  shall  not  forget  so 
pretty  a  compliment.  Why,  't  is  more  sugared 
than  Sir  Harry  Hastings'  lips." 

A  merry  laugh  followed  this  sally  as  she  said, 
turning  to  Simon,  who  had  just  stepped  into  the 
glade : 

"Are  you  here  to  tell  us  the  horses  are  wait 
ing,  O  Protector  of  Maids?" 

"Yes,  my  lady.  They  were  bridled  a  half 
hour  ago." 

"Then,  why  did  you  not  tell  me?" 
"Because,  my  lady,  Jock  espied,  leaving  the 
chateau  yonder,  armed  men  bearing  a  banner: 


THE  LANDING  17 

I  have  been  watching  to  see  whither  they  would 
turn.  Although  the  troop  has  filed  to  the  left, 
it  still  behooves  us  to  use  caution.  Peradventure 
we  had  better  turn  from  the  main  road,  riding 
back  to  the  one  which  bears  through  the  woods 
to  the  south.  Both  Andrew  and  Saul  say  that, 
though  it  be  narrow,  it  leads  to  a  broader  road 
farther  on." 

"Let  it  be  as  you  will,  Simon.     I  am  in  your 
charge  and  will,  therefore,  follow  your  lead." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SPIES 

"I  have  peppered  two." 
—Henry  IV. 

On  turning  into  the  cross-road,  which  was 
so  narrow  as  to  be  a  mere  bridle-path,  they 
were  obliged  to  ride  in  single  file.  Two  of  the 
men,  Andrew  and  Saul,  had  been  sent  by  the 
old  henchman  to  act  as  scouts. 

"Take  every  precaution,"  he  had  said  warn- 
ingly,  "lest  the  horsemen,  whom  we  saw  riding 
away  from  the  chateau,  should  have  turned  into 
the  wood  road." 

When  all  were  mounted  Simon  took  the  lead. 
Close  at  his  horse's  heels  rode  Lady  Beatrice, 
followed  by  Bess,  while  bringing  up  the  rear 
were  Jock  and  his  comrades.  The  long  roots 
of  trees,  often  projecting  above  the  ground,  as 
well  as  the  thickets  of  brier  roses  which  caught 
at  their  clothing,  obliged  them  to  proceed 
slowly.  More  than  once  Simon  was  forced  to 
hold  up  the  branches  which  interlaced  from  side 
to  side,  that  he  might  pass  beneath  them.  At 
such  times,  Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess  bent  almost 
to  their  horses'  necks,,  to  prevent  their  faces 
being  whipped  by  the  twigs  and  vines  as  they 
dropped  back  into  place.  Scarcely  a  ray  of  sun 
shine  penetrated  the  dense  foliage,  while  the 
twilight  dimness  and  strange  noises  made  Bess' 
18 


THE  SPIES  19 

heart  quake.  Once  Spitfire  grew  restive  and 
backed,  showing  plainly  that  her  keener  instinct 
warned  her  of  danger :  but  a  few  words  from 
her  young  mistress,  a  gentle  caress  of  her  sleek 
neck,  induced  her  to  pass  the  dense  thicket  to 
which  she  had  shown  such  marked  objection. 
Lady  Beatrice,  peering  into  the  gloom,  failed  to 
see  the  pair  of  wolfish  eyes  which  were  watch 
ing  her  intently.  The  great  beads  of  sweat 
beneath  her  hand  told  her  that  something 
uncanny  was  lurking  near  them.  Their  progress 
was  necessarily  slow.  At  last,  when  Simon 
turned,  motioning  them  to  halt,  Bess  would  have 
asked  a  question  had  not  his  imperative  gesture 
stayed  the  words  upon  her  lips. 

Silently  dismounting,  he  stole  forward  with 
stealthy  tread,  like  a  hunter  stalking  game,  leav 
ing  the  others  to  wonder  why  such  excessive  pre 
caution  was  needful.  Even  his  horse  seemed  to 
realize  the  necessity  for  absolute  quiet.  Ere 
long  Lady  Beatrice  heard  a  low  murmur,  fol 
lowed  by  the  soft  thud  of  horses'  feet.  This 
gradually  grew  louder  and,  mingling  with  the 
voices  of  men,  came  the  jangle  of  stirrup  against 
spur,  of  sword  and  holster.  The  question  which 
Bess  wished  to  ask  was  answered.  Jock  and 
his  companions  half  cocked  their  pistols,  for  it 
seemed,  while  waiting  and  listening,  that  there 
must  be  at  least  a  hundred  horsemen  crossing 
the  bridle-path.  The  scraps  of  conversation 
which  they  overheard  were  in  French,  unintel 
ligible  to  Bess  and  the  men,  but  to  Lady  Beatrice 
her  mother's  native  tongue  had  ever  come  as 


20  CONQUERORS  ALL 

naturally  as  song  to  the  robin.  She  gathered  by 
what  was  said  that  they  were  on  their  way  to  a 
larger  force  massing  at  a  given  point,  though 
she  could  not  catch  where  this  was.  Certain 
detached  words  made  her  think  it  near  her  des 
tination.  It  occurred  to  her  that  Simon  under 
stood  French,  and  that  his  proximity  to  the 
horsemen  woulcT  materially  aid  him  in  compre 
hending  the  situation.  Time  dragged  so  slowly 
that  she  grew  impatient,  wondering  what  had 
happened  to  detain  him.  The  French  tempera 
ment,  which  she  had  inherited  from  her  mother, 
had  often  made  her  long  for  adventure.  She 
had  almost  decided  to  push  on,  when  Simon 
appeared,  stepping  so  noiselessly  that  she  was 
unaware  of  his  presence  until  he  touched  her 
hand.  Before  she  could  speak,  he  put  his 
finger  to  his  lips,  saying  in  a  voice  scarcely 
audible : 

"Hush,  my  lady!  A  French  count  with  ten 
men  have  halted  not  a  bowshot  beyond  this 
path  and  are  listening  intently.  Fearing  you 
would  become  impatient,  I  crept  back  to  warn 
you.  A  voice,  the  neigh  of  a  horse,  or  even 
the  loud  crackling  of  a  twig,  would  at  once 
bring  them  upon  us. 

"By  my  troth !"  he  muttered  savagely,  "would 
that  I  could  teach  these  French  frog-eaters  a 
lesson!  I  warrant  they  would  not  soon  for 
get  it." 

Then,  impressing  upon  the  others  that  their 
lives  depended  on  their  silence,  he  disappeared 
as  quietly  as  he  had  come.  Scarcely  was  he  lost 


THE  SPIES  21 

in  the  gloom  before  he  returned  to  whisper  an 
order  to  Jock  and  his  comrade,  Adam,  when 
he  again  stole  from  sight. 

The  two  men  dismounted  and,  with  cautious 
steps  and  bated  breath,  made  their  way  back 
over  the  path  by  which  they  had  come,  while  to 
Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess  it  seemed  as  though 
danger  was  creeping  in  from  every  side.  Jock 
took  the  lead.  He  had  not  gone  more  than  half 
the  distance  when  his  keen  ear  detected  the  cat 
like  tread  of  softly  creeping  feet.  Motioning 
his  comrade  to  hide  behind  a  thicket  at  the  left, 
he  advanced  a  little  farther  down  the  path 
before  concealing  himself  behind  a  tree  at  the 
right.  More  and  more  distinct  grew  the  foot 
steps;  more  and  more  watchful  grew  Jock  and 
Adam. 

Simon  had  warned  them,  should  they  find 
spies  advancing,  on  no  account  to  use  their 
good  strong  blades.  Jock  was  a  man  of  far 
greater  intelligence  than  his  comrade,  and  rea 
lized  that  on  him  depended  their  success  or 
failure.  The  footsteps  were  drawing  very  near. 
Already  he  could  see  the  dim,  shadowy  outline 
of  one  man,  and  behind  him,  more  faintly, 
another.  As  the  question,  'Are  there  more?' 
flashed  through  his  mind,  the  foremost  came 
abreast  of  the  tree  behind  which  he  stood  and, 
with  the  step  of  a  born  hunter,  passed  on.  He 
was  nearing  Adam  when  the  second  man 
appeared.  To  Jock's  infinite  relief,  there  were 
only  these  two. 

It  had  been  understood  that  Adam  was  to 


22  CONQUERORS  ALL 

attack  the  first  man  from  behind,  while  he  faced 
the  other.  Jock  waited  with  bated  breath.  As 
he  saw  the  flash  of  Adam's  blade,  he  faced  his 
man,  sword  in  hand  and,  without  warning, 
lunged.  Swiftly  the  stranger  drew  his  blade. 
More  quickly  still  Jock  slashed  at  his  wrist, 
almost  severing  it.  He  caught  the  sound  of 
the  man  falling  behind  him  and  wondered  if 
Adam  had  killed  him. 

Jock  realized  that  he  had  no  mean  antago 
nist.  His  opponent  had  quickly  caught  his 
sword  before  it  could  fall.  The  length  of  its 
blade  gave  him  a  great  advantage  over  Jock, 
even  though  it  was  wielded  by  his  left  hand. 
Each  man  knew  that  death  waited  for  one  or 
the  other:  each  was  determined,  in  this  struggle, 
neither  to  give  nor  ask  quarter.  Simon's  warn 
ing  kept  ringing  in  Jock's  ears;  otherwise  he 
would  have  drawn  his  pistol. 

Both  men  fiercely  parried  and  thrust:  bright 
sparks  flew  as  blade  rang  against  blade:  each 
was  doing  his  best  to  tire  the  other.  Short  and 
sharp  grew  the  breath  of  Jock's  antagonist, 
upon  whose  face,  made  ghastly  by  its  pallor, 
was  an  expression  of  unflinching  resolution.  A 
glinting  ray  of  sunshine  brought  out  each  linea 
ment  as  well  as  every  play  of  his  gleaming 
sword.  Jock  realized  that  it  was  fortunate  for 
him  his  opponent  had  no  longer  the  use  of  his 
right  hand. 

The  man  before  him  changed  his  tierce.  More 
and  more  rapid  became  each  thrust.  Every 
feint,  every  trick  of  fence  at  his  command  was 


THE  SPIES  23 

brought  into  more  subtle  play.  His  strength 
was  fast  waning.  He  grew  desperate,  losing 
the  wariness  which  he  had  previously  shown. 
Jock's  skill  was  tried  to  the  utmost  to  ward  off 
the  long  keen  blade.  At  last  he  saw  his  opponent 
reel.  Then,  with  a  dexterous  thrust,  followed 
by  an  upward  twist  of  the  wrist,  a  trick  learned 
from  Simon,  he  sent  the  stranger's  sword  flying 
backward  onto  the  path.  Again  Jock  lunged 
with  his  good  stout  blade,  hoping  to  reach  the 
heart  of  his  antagonist  before  he  could  draw 
from  his  holster,  but  swiftly  the  other  staved  it 
off  with  the  butt  of  his  pistol,  which  he  then 
cocked.  Before  he  could  press  the  triggert  Jock, 
with  a  well  aimed  blow,  struck  it  from  his  hand. 
His  opponent  swayed.  Jock  thrust  straight  at 
his  heart,  but  missed  it.  Instead,  the  point  of 
his  sword  entered  below  the  ear.  With  a  deep 
groan,  the  fearless  Frenchman  fell  dead  at  his 
feet. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  akin  to  pity  that  Jock 
looked  down  on  the  spy.  He  and  Adam  lifted 
the  men  out  of  the  path  and  covered  them  with 
underbrush.  Jock  took  care  that  no  trace 
should  remain  of  what  had  taken  place.  After 
cleansing  their  hands  and  clothing  as  best  they 
could,  they  crept  cautiously  to  where  Lady 
Beatrice  and  Bess  were  waiting. 

Once  more  Simon  rejoined  them.  Again  the 
little  party  was  in  motion,  but  they  did  not 
advance.  Instead,  each  horse  was  noiselessly 
turned  to  retrace  the  path  over  which  they  had 
come  so  short  a  time  before.  Jock,  in  order  to 


24  CONQUERORS  ALL 

take  the  lead,  exchanged  his  horse  for  that  of 
Red  Dick,  while  Simon  brought  up  the  rear. 
Lady  Beatrice  wondered  what  next?  But 
though  words  trembled  on  her  lips,  she 
restrained  them.  Simon  had  told  Jock  to  ride 
slowly  unless  he  should  hear  the  Frenchmen  in 
pursuit,  then  to  lose  no  time.  He  had  left 
Andrew  and  Saul  on  guard  in  the  thicket,  with 
instructions  where  to  rejoin  him.  In  case  the 
horsemen  struck  into  the  path,  they  had  been 
cautioned  to  make  no  move  until  they  were  well 
on  their  way,  then  to  harrow  their  rear.  Should 
they  be  discovered,  Simon  had  bidden  them  to 
keep  the  Frenchmen  at  bay  as  long  as  possible. 

When  the  order  came  to  turn  back,  Jock  felt 
relieved  to  think  he  had  left  no  trace  of  their 
recent  encounter  to  shock  Lady  Beatrice,  and 
still  more  that  his  horse,  as  well  as  those  of 
Bess  and  his  comrades,  had  passed  by  the  spot 
where  the  bodies  of  the  men  were  concealed, 
without  show  of  fear.  He  was  about  to  thank 
his  lucky  stars  that  they  were  not  pursued  when 
a  low  ejaculation  from  Adam  made  him  look 
around.  Imagine  his  consternation  when  he 
caught  sight  of  Spitfire,  trembling,  quivering, 
head  up,  alert,  ears  stiffened,  listening;  eyes 
brilliantly  shining,  the  red  of  her  nostrils  like 
coals  of  fire  in  the  semi-darkness.  There  she 
stood,  her  forelegs  firmly  braced,  the  embodi 
ment  of  instinctive  fear  and  stubborn  resistance, 
utterly  refusing  to  pass  the  pile  of  underbrush 
where  they  had  hidden  the  bodies  of  the  spies ! 
Lady  Beatrice  smoothed  Spitfire's  glossy  neck, 


THE  SPIES  25 

whispering  many  a  coaxing  word  in  her  ear,  all 
to  no  purpose.  Simon  hastily  dismounted  and, 
taking  the  trembling  animal  by  the  bit,  half  led, 
half  dragged  her  to  where  Red  Dick  sat  with 
gaping  mouth,  watching.  But  the  mischief  was 
done.  Spitfire  whinnied  shrilly. 

Jock  stiffened  his  knees,  bracing  his  feet  in  the 
stirrup.  He  knew  what  the  result  would  be. 
He  drove  the  sharp  rowel  of  his  spur  into  his 
horse:  it  dashed  forward.  Reaching  the  road, 
he  drew  to  the  left  and  motioned  his  comrades 
to  fall  in  behind.  Lady  Beatrice,  hearing  the 
sharp  clash  of  steel,  knew  that  Adam  and  Saul 
were  doing  their  best  to  delay  pursuit.  Simon 
struck  Bess'  genet  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  to 
hasten  her  pace.  Then  he  shouted,  as  he  fol 
lowed  her  from  the  path  : 

"Nathan,  you  and  Adam  come  with  me! 
Jock,  you  and  Red  Dick  keep  the  French  at 
bay!  Let  us  push  on,"  he  cried  to  Lady  Beat 
rice  :  "  'tis  now  we  must  show  them  a  clean  pair 
of  heels!" 

For  a  short  distance  they  rode  away  from  the 
chateau,  then  bending  to  the  right,  made  what 
speed  they  could  considering  the  roughness  of 
the  road.  Coming  to  a  level  stretch  they  fairly 
flew,  their  horses'  hoofs  striking  out  sparks  as 
they  tore  on  and  on. 

Bess  and  the  men  could  hardly  keep  pace  with 
Spitfire  and  the  great  bay  which  Simon  bestrode, 
though  they  did  their  best:  yet  their  horses,  wet 
with  lather,  foam  dripping  from  their  mouths, 
showed  plainly  how  great  had  been  the  strain. 


26  CONQUERORS  ALL 

At  last  Simon  turned  sharply  to  the  left  into  a 
broad  wood  road  where,  wishing  to  ascertain 
whether  they  were  pursued,  he  bade  them  draw 
rein. 

"Adam,"  said  he,  "creep  cautiously  under 
cover  of  the  trees  beyond  yonder  bend,  and  see 
if  there  are  signs  of  our  comrades." 

He  had  scarcely  given  the  order  when  a  loud 
clatter  was  heard.  To  his  practiced  ear  came 
the  hoof  beats  of  three  horses :  that  there  were 
no  more  he  was  certain.  Thud,  thud,  thud, 
came  the  sound,  as  though  they  were  being 
urged  to  their  utmost.  They  had  not  turned 
the  bend  and  Adam  could  not  see  without  cross 
ing  the  road  whether  the  riders  were  friends  or 
foes.  Simon  hesitated:  he  was  uncertain  whether 
to  press  on,  or  to  wait  until  he  could  determine 
who  was  riding  with  such  reckless  speed. 

"My  lady,"  he  said  earnestly,  "it  were  better 
for  you  and  the  lass  to  push  forward:  you, 
Nathan,  go  with  your  mistress.  'T  will  not  be 
long  before  I  am  with  you." 

As  Lady  Beatrice  delayed,  he  exclaimed  with 
some  irritation: 

"On,  my  lady.     On!" 

For  the  moment,  Simon  had  forgotten  that 
she  was  not  a  little  maid. 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION 

"I  know  a  trick  worth  two  of  that." 
—Henry  IV. 

Around  a  curve  came  four  horsemen  at  break 
neck  speed.  Simon  felt  relief  when  he  saw  that 
Jock  was  their  leader.  This  was  but  natural: 
he  was  the  old  henchman's  son. 

Close  at  his  horse's  heels  were  Andrew  and 
Saul,  while  in  sharp  pursuit  rode  the  French 
Count.  Simon's  keen  sense  of  hearing  detected 
others  following.  When  Jock  reached  the  wood 
road,  he  drew  rein  near  his  father.  Before 
Andrew  and  Saul  could  turn  horses  the  Count, 
reckless  of  consequences,  was  upon  them.  Adam, 
as  he  passed  Jock,  exclaimed  excitedly: 

"More  are  coming:  there  be  six  on  the  way!" 

Simon  was  anxious,  for  Lady  Beatrice 
weighed  upon  his  mind.  He  asked  himself 
doubtfully  if  he  could  put  dependence  upon 
Nathan?  Yet,  how  could  he  spare  another  man, 
when  the  Count's  retainers  numbered  more  than 
his?  Still,  action  with  him  was  ever  twin  sister 
to  thought  Quick  and  sharp  came  his  orders 
to  Jock.  Simon  had  made  up  his  mind  to  a  bold 
course.  If  successful,  it  would  not  only  relieve 
him  from  the  further  pursuit  of  the  Count,  but 
it  would  amuse  the  Earl,  and  who  knew  but  that 

27 


28 

King  Hal  might  hear  of  it?  These  thoughts 
brought  a  grim  smile  to  Simon's  face. 

Jock,  quick  to  carry  out  his  father's  plan, 
drew  Andrew  and  Saul  to  one  side.  The  Count 
gave  no  heed  to  this  move,  though  he  found  him 
self  cut  off  from  his  men.  He  was  face  to  face 
with  Simon  and  Adam  —  one  man  against  two. 
Still,  he  was  undaunted,  his  bearing  fearless. 
A  resolute  expression  was  on  his  face.  With 
sword  unsheathed  and  rein  tightly  gripped,  he 
rode  at  the  old  henchman.  In  the  meantime, 
Adam  had  joined  Jock. 

Simon  was  cool  and  alert.  He  met  the  shock 
of  the  spirited  onset  with  steadfast  courage. 
It  was  his  intention,  if  possible,  to  disarm  the 
Count,  who  was  a  young  man  scarce  thirty,  and 
a  Frenchman  to  boot.  The  Count  was  all  dash 
and  fire  and  lacked  Simon's  self-command.  The 
impetuous  rush  of  the  Frenchman's  out-flashing 
sword  was  dexterously  parried  by  Simon. 
Backing  their  horses,  they  both  took  firmer  grip 
of  rein  and  sword.  The  lust  of  battle  was  upon 
them.  The  Count  had  all  the  confidence  of  a 
Frenchman :  Simon,  that  of  one  who  had  fought 
at  Poitiers.  The  upward  thrust,  the  sharp  quick 
lunge,  the  tierce,  the  parry,  were  made  by  each 
as  though  grand  masters  of  the  trick  of  fence. 

Once  more  each  horse  was  drawn  back,  only 
to  be  dashed  again  with  greater  fury  at  the 
other.  Simon's  eyes  had  lost  none  of  their 
keenness.  His  wrists  were  like  steel;  the  mag 
nificent  bay  and  his  master  might  have  been  a 
Centaur  of  old.  The  Count's  adroitness,  quick- 


A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION  29 

ness  of  thought  and  suppleness  stood  him  in 
good  stead.  Both  men  were  superb  horsemen, 
and  each  was  equally  determined  that  his  skill 
should  prevail.  Their  swords,  as  they  crossed 
each  other,  rang  out  sharp  and  clear,  followed 
by  a  more  sibilant  tone  as  blade  slid  along  blade. 
Eye  to  eye,  knee  to  knee,  their  breaths  coming 
faster  and  faster,  they  parried  and  thrust. 
Simon's  resolve  was  to  take  the  Frenchman  a 
prisoner,  while  the  Count's  thought  was  to 
mortally  wound  the  grim  old  man.  The  time 
had  come  for  Simon's  coup-de-grace.  On  it  he 
staked  his  success.  Before  the  Count,  who  mis 
took  his  play,  could  rally,  the  point  of  the  old 
henchman's  blade  had  entered  his  right  shoul 
der.  Then,  with  a  swift  downward  stroke, 
which  took  him  off  guard,  Simon  sent  the  Count's 
sword  with  a  swirl  into  the  thicket.  In  the 
fraction  of  a  second,  the  Count  drew  his  pistol, 
but  before  he  could  raise  the  hammer  a  sharp 
blow  with  the  flat  of  Simon's  blade  struck  it 
from  his  hand,  sending  it  spinning  to  the  ground. 

The  trees  completely  shut  off  the  two  com 
batants.  Although  the  Count's  men  could  not 
see  him,  they  heard  his  battle-cry: 

"For  Mont  Joie  and  Saint  Denis!" 

This  put  new  life  into  them.  Loud  rang  their 
shouts : 

"Five  le,  vive  le  d'Epernon!  A  has,  a  bas, 
les  Anglais!"  as  they  rode  pell-mell  at  Jock 
and  his  comrades. 

Swift  as  had  been  their  onset,  more  rapid 
still  was  their  retreat.  Jock's  orders  were  car- 


30  CONQUERORS  ALL 

ried  out  to  the  letter.  His  men  stood  the  shock 
of  the  oncoming  horses  like  veterans.  Simul 
taneously  every  trigger  fell  with  a  click, 
emptying  three  of  the  saddles.  Out  rang  their 
cheers,  and  their  answering  cries : 

"For  Saint  George  and  Wotten !  Down  with 
the  Frenchmen!" 

This  time  they  led  the  charge. 

Their  opponents  rallied.  Nerve  and  muscle 
were  strained  to  the  utmost.  With  glittering 
blades  and  teeth  tight  shut  they  fought  more 
like  devils  than  men.  In  the  end  the  English 
were  victorious.  Jock  received  a  deep  flesh 
wound  in  his  left  arm,  while  Andrew  and  Saul 
had  fared  but  little  better.  Adam  had  been 
more  fortunate :  he  was  unscratched.  As  they 
were  busily  binding  their  wounds,  Jock  was  cer 
tain  he  heard  the  hoofbeats  of  his  missing  gray 
stallion.  He  had  been  unhorsed  at  the  bridle 
path,  while  endeavoring  to  keep  the  Frenchmen 
at  bay.  In  the  press  of  the  melee  and  the  rush 
of  the  Count,  he  was  separated  from  Nathan. 
Seeing  a  riderless  horse,  he  had  sprung  into  the 
saddle  and  with  a  rallying  cry  drew  off  his  men. 

The  Count  had  ridden  up  the  road,  thinking, 
no  doubt,  that  it  was  the  right  direction.  Seeing 
his  mistake,  he  turned  hot-foot  in  pursuit.  This 
had  given  Andrew  and  Saul  a  chance  to  join 
Jock.  But  where  was  Red  Dick? 

With  a  throb  of  great  pleasure,  Jock  saw 
that  he  had  made  no  mistake.  Around  the 
bend,  with  Dick  on  his  back,  pounded  the  gray 
stallion,  his  long  mane  and  tail  flaunting  like 


A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION  31 

banners.  With  powerful  stride  and  neck  proudly 
arched,  ears  pointed,  erect,  eyes  brilliantly 
shining,  on  he  came  rushing  like  a  tumultuous 
river;  broad  chested,  clean  limbed,  red  nostrils 
dilated;  foam-flecked,  creating  a  picture  force 
ful,  dominant. 

It  was  not  until  the  brave  Frenchman  had 
been  deprived  of  his  sword  and  pistol,  and 
Simon  had  exclaimed  imperatively: 

"Yield,  Sir  Count!"  that  he  awakened  to  the 
consciousness  that  it  was  the  only  course  left 
him.  He  had  heard  the  victorious  cries  of  the 
English  and  knew  that  his  men  must  have  been 
overcome.  For  a  moment,  the  Count's  pride 
rose  in  arms :  then,  realizing  his  situation,  he 
replied,  with  true  French  politeness: 

"At  your  mercy,  mon  Anglais.  Will  you 
accept  a  ransom?" 

"No,  Sir  Count.  I  have  but  little  time  to 
talk  of  ransom.  I  will  return  you  your  sword 
and  pistol  if  you  will  give  your  word  not  to  use 
them  'gainst  me  and  my  men,  at  least  until  you 
learn  what  our  good  King  Hal  would  do  with 
you." 

The  Count,  seeing  no  alternative,  reluctantly 
agreed  to  this  proposal. 

"Now,  my  lord,"  said  Simon,  "let  us  ride 
forward  as  rapidly  as  may  be.  Ahead  is  my 
mistress,  Lady  Beatrice  Wotton." 

The  red  blood  mounted  to  the  Count's  olive 
cheek. 

"Ma  foil"  he  exclaimed,   "I  would  rather 


32  CONQUERORS  ALL 

meet  your  lady  in  any  other  guise  than  that  of 
prisoner — or  her  husband,  the  Earl  of 
Wotton." 

Simon  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  correct 
this  mistake.  The  old  henchman  put  spurs  to 
his  horse;  Jock  and  his  comrades  followed. 

"This  surely  cannot  be  your  first  visit  to 
Picardy,"  said  the  Count,  "if  one  ma"y  judge  by 
your  knowledge  of  the  roads." 

"No,  my  lord,  neither  the  first  nor  the 
second." 

"Why  are  you  not  with  the  King?  I  hear 
he  is  hammering  hard  at  the  gates  of  Harfleur." 

"For  the  best  of  reasons,  my  lord.  I  am 
acting  as  escort  to  my  lady." 

"You  said  as  much  before,"  answered  the 
Count  with  a  smile.  "Would  it  be  indiscreet 
to  ask  your  destination?" 

"No,  Sir  Count.  It  is  a  good  bit  from  here 
to  the  castle  near  Agincourt" 

"These  are  perilous  times  for  an  English 
man  to  be  traveling  in  France,"  said  the  Count 
suggestively,  "even  as  escort  to  a  lady." 

"I  know  that,  my  lord:  but  what  Englishman 
gives  thought  to  peril  so  long  as  he  has  his  good 
blade  and  bestrides  a  mettlesome  horse?" 

"Yet,  my  man,  it  would  seem  to  me  wiser  had 
your  lady  waited  her  lord's  return  in  England." 

"That  was  not  the  opinion  of  the  Earl," 
replied  Simon  curtly. 

"I  presume  not,  or  the  Countess  would  not 
be  here.  But  is  it  not  strange  we  do  not  over 
take  her?" 


A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION  33 

"No,  I  think  not,  my  lord.  My  lady  is  a 
good  horsewoman  and  enjoys  a  brisk  canter. 
The  soft  moss  of  this  road  has  doubtless 
tempted  her." 

They  dropped  into  silence.  Simon  felt  a 
creeping  dread,  a  presentment  of  coming  ill. 
Where  could  Lady  Beatrice  be?  Surely  she 
could  not  have  lost  her  way.  Was  not  the  road 
straight  before  her?  Thus  far  he  had  come 
to  no  other. 

"By  your  leave,  my  lord,"  said  Simon,  "we 
will  ride  faster.  See,  the  sun  is  setting." 

He  was  loath  to  acknowledge  his  forebodings. 

Faster  and  faster  they  pressed  forward.  The 
trees  arched  overhead,  making  a  soft  grayish 
gloom.  Here  and  there  in  an  open  glade,  the 
afterglow  transmitted  great  shafts  of  crimson 
light  till  branch  and  leaf  seemed  bathed  in 
blood.  On,  and  still  on  they  rode,  hearing  no 
sounds  but  those  of  nature  unless  it  were  the 
muffled  thud  of  their  own  horses'  feet.  Simon 
could  no  longer  conceal  his  anxiety.  The  way 
had  been  long  that  he  and  the  Count  had  ridden 
together,  expecting  each  moment  to  overtake 
Lady  Beatrice.  He  had  not  questioned  but  at 
some  bend  in  the  road  he  should  find  his  young 
mistress  impatiently  waiting.  As  the  shadows 
grew  deeper  he  asked  the  Count: 

"Can  you  tell  me  how  much  farther  through 
the  forest  this  road  extends  and  if  there  are 
cross-cuts  near  at  hand?" 

"Oui,  monsieur,  as  this  land  is  mine  I  know 
not  only  the  length  of  the  road  but  am  familiar 


34  CONQUERORS  ALL 

with  every  path.  Already  we  have  ridden  two- 
thirds  of  the  way.  If  we  turn  to  the  right  two 
leagues  beyond  here,  it  will  lead  us  to  the  Abbe 
ville  Highway." 

"No  doubt  there,"  said  Simon  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  "I  shall  find  my  lady  waiting." 

Night  had  fallen  when,  with  unslackened 
speed,  they  reached  the  cross-road  of  which 
the  Count  had  spoken. 

"Halt!"  exclaimed  Simon.  "Lady  Beatrice! 
Lady  Beatrice!"  he  cried  loudly.  But  receiving 
no  response,  in  great  disappointment  he  hastily 
dismounted.  Down  on  his  knees  he  dropped  to 
examine  the  turf.  By  the  tremulous  light  of  the 
moon  shining  through  the  interlaced  branches, 
he  saw  the  prints  of  horses'  feet,  many  in  num 
ber.  He  scrutinized  the  moss  closely,  perceiv 
ing  indications  of  a  struggle  in  which  both 
English  and  French  had  been  engaged.  This 
he  was  easily  enabled  to  determine,  for  the 
style  of  shoeing  on  either  side  of  the  channel 
greatly  differed.  His  keen  eye  quickly  detected 
the  hoof  prints  he  was  seeking.  Once  again  in 
the  saddle  he  cried,  with  a  muttered  curse : 

"Turn  to  the  left,  men!  I  can  see  my  lady 
hath  been  forced  away  by  a  large  band  of  horse 
men." 

"It  is  possible,  monsieur"  explained  the 
Frenchman,  "that  the  Countess  has  met  with 
one  of  those  marauding  bands  which  at  present 
infest  the  forests  of  France.  It  is,  alas,  too 
true  that,  in  the  disturbed  state  of  the  country, 
travelers  have  but  little  protection." 


A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION  35 

"Look!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Jock.  "Is  not 
that  a  piece  of  a  kirtle  on  yonder  bush?" 

"Yes,  my  lad,"  replied  Simon:  "your  eye  is 
keener  than  mine.  Hand  it  to  me.  By  my 
troth,  the  lass  knows  what  she's  about.  It 
belongs  to  Bess.  See !  it  was  torn  in  haste." 

"How  is  that,  father?  To  me  it  seems  but  a 
piece  of  colored  woolen." 

"The  ragged  edge,  Jock,  should  tell  you  it 
was  torn,  while  the  long  threads  hanging  show 
it  was  done  in  haste.  But  ride,  lad,  ride  !  Spare 
not  the  spur.  Who  knows  what  indignities  my 
lady  may  be  suffering!" 

Then  turning  to  the  others,  he  cried  sharply : 

"Spare  not  the  spur.  To  the  rescue !  To  the 
rescue!" 

On,  on  they  galloped,  faster,  still  faster,  their 
jaded  steeds  responding  with  new  vigor  to  the 
tightened  rein  and  touch  of  spur,  as  though 
instinctively  realizing  the  great  need  of  speed. 
The  way  grew  darker,  the  thick  foliage  shutting 
out  the  light  of  the  moon.  To  the  old  hench 
man,  the  last  words  of  the  Earl  of  Wotton 
seemed  to  be  repeating  themselves  over  and 
over: 

"I  trust  her  to  you,  Simon,  without  fear  for 
her  safety,  for  well  I  know  she  is  almost  as  dear 
to  you  as  to  me." 

Then  and  there  Simon  made  up  his  mind  that 
if  aught  happened  to  his  young  lady,  he  would 
never  again  face  the  Earl.  Yet  he  did  not  give 
up  heart,  for  he  was  made  of  sterner  stuff.  A 
look  of  unyielding  purpose  came  into  his  face, 


36  CONQUERORS  ALL 

a  hard  light  to  his  eyes,  which  boded  no  good  to 
those  who  had  borne  away  his  beloved  young 
mistress.  He  showed  no  mercy  to  his  horse 
nor,  for  that  matter,  to  himself,  but  pushed 
onward  with  knee  and  spur,  determined  to  over 
take  the  party.  They  rode  in  this  manner  for 
over  an  hour,  then  Simon's  sagacious  bay  gave 
warning  of  danger  by  stopping  short  in  the  road. 
It  was  then  that  the  soft  splash  of  water  was 
heard — then  a  man's  laugh  ! 

They  were  on  the  outskirts  of  a  large  glen,  a 
beautiful  spot;  for  a  moment  even  Simon's  inar 
tistic  eye  was  held  spellbound  by  a  miniature 
waterfall.  In  the  white  radiance  of  the  moon 
it  looked  like  opalescent  gauze  as  it  rippled  and 
dripped  into  a  mirror-like  pool.  Around  were 
drooping  willows  and  stately  poplars  on  which 
the  flickering  moonbeams  left  notes  of  silver. 

His  party  was  in  the  shadow  made  by  the 
overhanging  trees.  Jock  dismounted :  his  father 
whispered  a  short,  hurried  order.  One  by  one 
the  horses  were  led  quietly  back  into  the  forest 
and  there  tethered.  Jock  bade  Adam  keep  a 
sharp  look-out  that  they  might  eat  their  supper 
undisturbed. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  bringing  a  saddle-bag  to 
where  the  Count  sat,  "you  are  welcome  to  such 
as  we  have.  It  is  but  plain  food,  but  I've  heard 
say  that  'Hunger's  a  good  sauce,'  and  I  wot  it 
will  satisfy  you  even  as  well  as  better  fare." 

Bidding  the  men  eat,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the 
road,  he  caught  up  a  large  slice  of  bread  and  a 


A  DUEL  AND  AN  ABDUCTION  37 

tall  pewter  mug  which  he  filled  with  red  wine, 
and  hurried  to  his  father. 

Simon  had  been  reconnoitering  and  had  found 
five  horses  in  addition  to  those  of  Lady  Beatrice 
and  her  attendants.  After  tersely  explaining  to 
Jock  the  plan  he  had  formed,  he  bade  Jock 
picket  Spitfire  and  the  other  two  horses  with 
their  own. 

"Then,  my  lad,"  said  Simon,  "when  the  men 
have  tethered  those  of  the  robbers  where  they 
cannot  be  easily  found,  hasten  back  to  me." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  RESCUE 

"One  woman  is  fair,  yet  I  am  well ;  another  is  wise,  yet 
I  am  well,  but  till  all  graces  be  in  one  woman,  one  woman 
shall  not  come  in  my  grace." 

— Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

Everything  had  been  done  as  Simon  directed. 
Fortunately,  when  Jock  went  for  Spitfire,  one  of 
the  robbers  began  lustily  to  sing  a  drinking  song. 
Simon  heard  the  indignant  remonstrances  of  the 
outlaws  at  the  loud  tones  of  their  comrade. 
They  might  as  well  have  expected  to  stay  the 
downward  force  of  the  mountain  torrent,  leap 
ing  from  crag  to  crag.  Much  to  Jock's  satis 
faction,  like  the  muttering  of  thunder,  still 
rumbled  the  deep  bass  voice.  Simon  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  singing  to  creep  nearer.  The 
opening  of  the  half  cave,  half  hut,  was  hidden 
so  naturally  with  thicket  and  vine,  that  had  not 
his  great  bay,  Ajax,  refused  to  go  farther,  he 
would  have  passed  it  in  the  darkness. 

"Mon  Dieu,  shut  up!"  cried  one  of  the  rob 
bers.  "If  we  had  not  sent  the  rest  of  our  com 
pany  to  act  as  decoy,  your  blating  would  have 
brought  the  English  dogs  upon  us." 

"Sacre,  yes,  Henri!"  exclaimed  a  tenor  voice. 
"Cease  your  bawling,  Jean." 

"If  you  do  not,"  growled  the  third,  "trente- 
38 


THE  RESCUE  39 

mille-diables,  I'll  thrust  this  bottle  into  your  red 
maw!" 

"That's  all  right,  Plac,on,  if  it  only  be  the 
nose  of  the  bottle,  but  look  out  that  it's  full  of 
Burgundy." 

"Mon  Dieuf"  exclaimed  Henri,  "had  you 
been  one  of  King  John's  troops,  you  would  have 
got  enough  Burgundy  to  last  a  lifetime !" 

"Haw,  haw,  Henri,  that  ish  goot,  wery  goot. 
You  do  make  Karl  Heifner  laugh,  haw,  haw, 
haw !  So  you  think  Jean's  palate  unt  von  great 
tongue  might  be  minus  if  he  had  been  wit  John 
of  Burgundy?  Mein  Himmelf  it  be  lucky  if 
you  are  not  heard,  Jean,  in  Abbeville." 

"Come,"  said  Placon,  "let's  toss  up  and  see 
to  whose  lot  will  fall  the  black-eyed  maid." 

"Not  I,"  replied  Jean,  bringing  his  song  to 
a  sudden  finish.  "She  is  my  lawful  prey!" 

"Have  a  bottle,  Jean,"  laughed  Henri; 
"that's  enough  for  you.  Take  another  pull  to 
whet  your  whistle." 

"The  lady  will  bring  us  a  ransom  worth 
having,"  said  another,  "for  she's  a  de  Berry!" 

"How  know  you  that,  Paul?" 

"From  her  own  sweet  lips,  Henri.  When  I 
asked  her  for  a  kiss,  she  said,  as  though  she 
were  the  Queen  of  Sheba  herself,  'Dare  but 
touch  me  with  your  little  finger  and  my  grand- 
sire,  the  Duke  de  Berry,  will  have  you 
quartered!" 

"Morbleu!"  exclaimed  Henri,  "she's  a  plucky 
baggage.'' 

"Dat  ish  so,  Henri;  dat  ish  so;  haw,  haw. 


40  CONQUERORS  ALL 

You  did  not  get  your  kiss  then,  Paul?  Dat  ish 
goot!" 

"Take  that,  you  dirty  German,  take  that!" 
exclaimed  Paul  in  a  towering  passion. 

Simon  was  glad  to  hear  them  fighting  among 
themselves,  especially  since  learning  that  they 
were  only  a  part  of  the  band.  At  that  moment 
Jock  touched  his  father's  arm.  Simon's  quick 
ear  had  not  caught  his  stealthy  tread. 

"Ah,  back,  my  lad?  Then  the  horses  are 
ready  for  the  road.  Have  all  eaten  their  fill?" 

"Yes,  father.  Take  this  bread  and  wine. 
You,  too,  must  be  hungry  and  thirsty." 

"That's  so,  lad,  yet  I  had  quite  forgot.  But 
haste,  and  place  the  men  in  yonder  thicket, 
facing  the  cave;  then  ask  the  Count  to  join  in 
the  rescue.  I  wot  he  will  not  refuse,  though  he 
think  our  young  lady  the  wife  of  her  own 
father." 

"What !  not  the  Countess  of  Wotton  !  Why, 
she  has  been  dead  this  many  a  year." 

"That's  true,  my  lad.  But  this  is  no  time  for 
idle  talk.  If  the  Count  consents,  send  him  at 
once  to  me,  but  say  naught  of  your  young 
mistress." 

Jock  sped  away  on  his  errand,  while  Simon 
giving  serious  thought  to  his  plan  examined  his 
pistols,  loosening  his  sword  in  its  scabbard  and 
the  knife  in  his  belt.  Then  as  he  saw  the  men 
steal  silently  to  the  thicket,  one  by  one,  he  gave 
a  soft,  bird-like  whistle,  a  perfect  imitation  of 
the  hermit-thrush.  Lady  Beatrice  was  familiar 
with  this  signal.  Simon  had  often  used  it  when 


THE  RESCUE  41 

they  were  stalking  deer.  Again,  like  a  bird  dis 
turbed  in  its  sleep,  he  trilled  brokenly,  that  she 
might  know  the  moment  for  decisive  action  had 
come.  If  she  was  unbound,  as  he  fully  believed, 
he  felt  sure  she  would  be  ready  to  make  good 
her  escape.  He  knew  he  could  rely  on  her 
coolness,  her  courage;  but  as  to  Bess  and 
Nathan  he  gave  hardly  a  thought.  Just  then, 
at  Simon's  elbow,  the  Count  said  in  a  guarded 
voice : 

"I  am  here,  and  my  sword,  monsieur,  is  at 
the  service  of  thy  lady." 

Briefly  Simon  explained  what  he  wished  done. 
Then  to  Jock  he  said  proudly,  his  great  hand 
resting  for  a  moment  gently  as  a  woman's  on 
his  shoulder: 

"I  know,  lad,  I  can  depend  on  you  being 
vigilant  and  ready!" 

As  the  two  men  left  him  to  take  up  their 
posts  in  the  shadow  of  the  thicket,  Simon,  with 
three  fingers  in  his  mouth,  emitted  a  loud  'To- 
whoo,  to-whoo!'  The  call  was  so  natural  that 
the  Count  started,  thinking  that  an  owl  must  be 
in  the  branches  overhead.  Simon  was  right  in 
his  surmise,  for  Lady  Beatrice  had  recognized 
his  signal.  A  rude  curtain  separated  her  and 
Bess  from  the  robbers,  while  Nathan  lay  gagged 
and  bound  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  cave. 

"Bess,"  she  said,  "take  heart,  succor  is  nigh. 
Bind  up  your  hair  and  wipe  your  eyes.  You  are 
not  for  the  singer,  lass,  but  for  Robert  of 
Derwater !" 

Again   she  heard  the   "to-whoo,   to-whoo!" 


42  CONQUERORS  ALL 

This  time  the  sound  was  nearer,  as  though  in 
reply  to  its  mate.  Quickly  followed  the  crack 
ling  of  twigs,  the  sharp  report  of  a  pistol.  A 
muttered  curse  and  the  fall  of  a  heavy  body  told 
her  that  the  aim  had  been  sure. 

Then  came  the  sound  of  running  feet,  the 
hot  pursuit,  and  peeping  from  behind  the  cur 
tain  she  saw  that  the  cave  was  empty  with  the 
exception  of  a  man  prone  upon  his  face,  and 
Nathan,  trussed  like  a  fowl.  With  a  vigorous 
sweep  of  her  hand  she  thrust  back  the  curtain. 
Catching  a  knife  from  the  table  she  bent  over 
the  tightly  bound  prisoner  and  swiftly  ran  the 
keen-edged  blade  across  the  leathern  tongs,  sev 
ering  them.  Seeing  that  his  cramped  position 
made  it  almost  impossible  for  him  to  rise,  with 
strength  newborn  she  grasped  him  by  the  shoul 
ders,  lifting  him  bodily  to  his  feet.  For  a 
moment  he  reeled  unsteadily,  yet  only  for  a 
moment.  The  next,  he  was  ready  to  follow  his 
young  mistress  and  Bess. 

Lady  Beatrice  parted  the  vines  which  had 
fallen  back  over  the  entrance  just  as  Simon  was 
about  to  do  the  same  from  his  side.  With  a 
half  inarticulate  cry  she  put  her  hand  in  his. 
He  made  an  imperative  gesture  for  Bess  and 
Nathan  to  follow;  then  the  forest  hid  them  like 
blurred  shadows.  In  the  meantime,  the  Count, 
with  Jock  and  the  men,  were  making  short  work 
of  the  robbers.  Simon  led  his  lady  to  where 
Spitfire  was  tethered.  He  feared  another 
whinny  when  he  saw  her  rubbing  her  nose  affec 
tionately  against  the  shoulder  of  her  young 


THE  RESCUE  43 

mistress,  but  the  noble  creature  seemed  to  sense 
their  danger.  Bess  and  Nathan  were  already 
mounted  when  Jock,  with  the  Count,  hurriedly 
drew  near.  As  the  men  came  trailing  behind 
them,  he  cried: 

"All  but  one  of  the  villains,  father,  be  badly 
wounded  or  dead.  He  made  his  escape!" 

"The  more  reason,  lad,  for  us  to  hasten. 
Ride  by  your  lady's  side  while  I,  with  three  of 
the  men,  take  the  lead.  Count,  I  leave  the 
others  in  your  charge.  Who  knows  how  soon 
we  may  meet  the  rest  of  this  lawless  company?" 

Their  horses  were  refreshed  and  eager  to  be 
off.  There  was  no  need  of  the  spur,  yet  Simon 
did  not  refrain  from  its  use.  He  wished,  with 
out  loss  of  time,  to  reach  the  inn  which  the 
Count  had  described.  He  knew  the  tired  horses, 
as  well  as  his  lady,  required  longer  rest.  To 
the  others  he  gave  but  little  thought.  On, 
swiftly,  they  rode,  paying  no  heed  to  the  wild 
things  of  the  wood  that  scuttled  across  their 
path.  They  heard  no  sound  of  the  outlaw  band 
as  they  pushed  on,  and  still  on.  At  last  they 
came  to  the  Abbeville  road.  Looking  up, 
Simon  descried  the  morning  star,  the  herald  of 
another  day. 

As  they  drew  rein  at  the  Three  Crows,  the 
line  of  pearly  gray  in  the  east  was  etched  with 
saffron.  Before  the  host  could  be  aroused  from 
his  slumber  the  horizon  became  glowing,  flame- 
tinted,  violet.  Even  as  Lady  Beatrice  watched 
the  exquisite  blending  of  color,  the  sun,  like  a 
song  of  thanksgiving,  flooded  the  world.  A 


44  CONQUERORS  ALL 

little  bird  in  a  tree  near  the  corner  of  the  inn 
gave  forth  a  note  of  pleased  surprise.  It  was 
answered  by  another  and  still  another,  till  the 
welkin  teemed  with  sweet  echoes. 

Loudly  Simon  rapped  with  the  butt  of  his 
pistol  till  forth  from  the  window  over  the  porch 
was  thrust  a  red-capped  head  whose  owner 
asked  in  a  sleepy  voice : 

"What's  wanted?" 

"Bed  and  board  for  my  lady — for  man  and 
beast!  Do  you  sleep  all  the  day,  man?  Make 
haste,  or  your  inn  will  be  tumbled  about  your 
ears.  Haste,  I  say,  make  haste!" 

By  the  time  Simon  had  lifted  his  young  mis 
tress  from  her  saddle  the  door  was  thrown  open 
and  the  host,  not  he  of  the  red  night-cap,  but  a 
short,  stout,  bland  looking  Frenchman,  with 
twinkling  black  eyes,  bade  them  welcome.  While 
the  man  who  had  answered  their  hail  was  show 
ing  where  their  horses  might  be  stalled,  Lady 
Beatrice,  led  by  Simon,  entered  the  large 
kitchen.  Bess,  who  had  closely  followed  her 
mistress,  was  glad  to  see  a  woman  upon  her 
knees  before  the  smouldering  embers,  blowing 
them  into  life.  Bess  was  cross,  hungry  and  tired. 
Lady  Beatrice,  refreshed  by  a  cup  of  hot  posset, 
withdrew  to  a  small  room,  evidently  that  of  the 
jolly  host  and  his  dame. 

Everything  was  scrupulously  neat;  even  the 
bed,  she  noted,  had  clean  sheets  which,  though 
coarse,  looked  inviting.  With  a  sigh  of  con 
tent  her  head  dropped  on  the  snowy  white  pil 
low  and,  like  a  healthy,  tired  child,  she  soon 


THE  RESCUE  45 

slumbered.  Not  so  Bess,  who  sought  sleep  in 
vain.  On  a  low  pallet  near  the  bed  of  her 
mistress,  through  the  long  hours  she  lay  think 
ing  of  what  might,  even  then,  be  the  fate  of 
Robert  of  Derwater.  Since  landing  in  France 
she  had  seen  so  much  shedding  of  blood  that  it 
brought  home  to  her  what  war  really  was.  Bess 
had  a  kind  heart  and,  in  spite  of  her  frivolous 
manner,  she  loved  the  stout  yeoman. 

There  was  still  another  in  the  inn  who  could 
not  sleep.  This  was  the  Count — Simon's  pris 
oner.  When,  in  the  blaze  of  the  freshly  kindled 
fire,  he  had  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  Lady 
Beatrice,  nothing  could  have  exceeded  his 
amazement.  He  had  expected  to  see  a  woman 
of  fifty  at  least.  When  in  the  kitchen  she  had 
thrown  off  her  hat  and  he  beheld  the  wavy 
masses  of  her  red-gold  hair,  the  violet  tint  of 
her  limpid  eyes :  when  the  fire  had  revealed  her 
mobile  face  with  its  sensitive  lips,  the  delicate 
flush,  and  the  graceful  curves  of  her  tall,  lithe 
figure,  his  heart  had  seemed  to  stand  still,  then 
to  throb  and  beat  wildly.  Over  him,  through 
him,  whirling,  rushing,  came  an  intense  longing 
for  her  love;  to  hold  her  in  his  arms,  to  seal  her 
lips  with  kisses.  He  smiled  in  the  darkness 
when  he  thought  how  he  had  prided  himself  in 
the  past  on  being  so  different  from  other  young 
men.  Could  it  have  been  only  the  night  before 
that  he  said  lightly,  indifferently,  to  a  friend, 
Saint  Pierre: 

"I  love?  I  know  not  the  meaning  of  the 
word,  neither  do  I  care  to  know." 


46  CONQUERORS  ALL 

What  was  this  feeling  if  not  love,  that  had 
so  overwhelmed  him  at  first  sight  of  Lady 
Beatrice  of  Wotton? 

Evidently  she  had  not  seen  him  for  he  had 
screened  himself  behind  the  men.  Simon  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  him.  He  was  glad,  for  more 
reasons  than  one,  to  draw  back  into  the  shadow 
of  the  great  chimney.  He  wondered  what  she 
would  think  of  him.  Whether  his  being  a  pris 
oner  on  Simon's  parole  would  cause  her  to 
question  his  courage.  He  thought  of  the  dis 
ordered  condition  of  his  dress,  the  blood  spots 
upon  it,  the  roughened  appearance  of  his  hair, 
his  general  uncleanliness.  He  wished  to  look 
his  best  when  Lady  Beatrice  saw  him.  As  he 
lay  there,  wakeful,  thinking  over  the  incidents 
of  the  afternoon  and  evening,  he  tried  to  picture 
his  future  with  her  to  love  him.  He  was  quick 
to  observe  her  womanly  grace,  the  pride  of  her 
bearing.  When  Simon  said,  "My  lady,  your 
room  is  ready,"  he  fully  realized  what  a  noble 
nature  was  hers,  for  she  replied,  in  a  voice  gen 
tle  and  kindly,  with  a  slow  sweet  smile  creeping 
from  her  eyes  to  her  lips,  "Think  not  of  me. 
It  is  you,  old  friend,  who  need  to  rest." 

It  was  with  thoughts  like  these  that  the  Count 
at  last  fell  asleep.  She  came  to  him  in  his 
dreams,  a  vision  of  ethereal  beauty,  but  when, 
love-prompted,  he  reached  out  to  touch  her 
clinging  white  drapery,  the  soft  bluish  haze  in 
which  she  was  floating  enfolded  her  from  his 
sight. 

With  love  knocking  at  his  heart,  he  awoke. 


CHAPTER  V. 
AT  THE  SILVER  MOON 

"For  her  own  person, 
It  beggared  all  description ;  she  did  lie 
In  her  pavilion, 

O'er-picturing  that  Venus,  where  we  see 
The  fancy  outwork  nature." 

— Anthony  and  Cleopatra. 

"The  night  gives  promise  of  being  dark,  Rob 
ert  of  Derwater.  Are  you  sure  you  know  the 
way?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,  and  if  I  mistake  not  we  have 
landed  not  a  furlong  from  where  I  took  the 
boat  when  I  returned  to  England.  Twenty 
paces  hence,  in  a  little  dell,  we  shall  find  an  oak 
which  in  some  storm  was  toppled  over,  its 
very  roots  standing  upright  to  heaven.  I  noted 
it  well,  thinking  it  would  prove  a  sure  land 
mark." 

"Then  push  on, — or  stay.  In  my  haste  I 
forgot  that  we  must  wait  until  the  men  bring  my 
horse  to  land." 

"It  is  here,  my  lord,"  said  one  of  the  men,  as 
he  handed  the  dripping  reins  to  the  Earl. 

"That  is  well.  Now,  Robert,  let  us  press  for 
ward." 

"This  way,  my  lord,  but  take  heed  of  spread 
ing  branches  above  your  head  and  root  of  tree 
beneath  your  horse's  feet." 

47 


48  CONQUERORS  ALL 

When  they  entered  the  forest,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  stout  yeoman's  lynx  eyes,  they  would 
never  have  found  the  place  of  which  he  had 
spoken. 

"Here,  sir,"  cried  Robert,  "is  the  glade  with 
the  storm-riven  tree." 

The  Earl  drew  a  breath  of  relief,  not  having 
felt  as  confident  as  his  companion.  The  men 
grumbled  and  swore  under  their  breath:  their 
horses  stumbled  in  the  darkness.  Onward  went 
Robert,  his  woodman's  training  standing  him  in 
good  stead.  Their  progress  was  necessarily 
slow.  At  the  gray  light  of  dawn  Robert  as 
sured  the  Earl  that  since  landing  they  had  rid 
den  two  leagues.  When  they  halted  for  break 
fast  a  soft  luminous  mist  shut  out  the  surround 
ing  country.  Thus  far  they  had  met  no  one ; 
not  even  a  peasant  hut  had  been  seen.  The  Earl 
thought  it  best  to  picket  their  horses  well  in  the 
forest. 

"Methinks,  Robert,"  he  said  as  he  endeav 
ored  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  road,  "we  cannot 
use  too  great  precaution." 

Men  and  horses  were  greatly  refreshed 
when  they  again  pushed  on.  Robert  knew  that 
the  king's  mission  brooked  no  delay,  while  the 
Earl  wished  to  make  haste  that  he  might  take 
part  in  the  siege  at  Harfleur. 

It  was  near  noon.  They  had  just  capped  the 
brow  of  a  hill  when  Robert's  keen  eyes  caught 
the  glint  of  steel  in  the  distance.  He  pointed  it 
out  to  the  Earl,  who  said  questioningly : 

"Are   you   not   mistaken?      Yon   soldiers   I 


AT  THE  SILVER  MOON  49 

think  you   will   find   are   white   birch   saplings 
swayed  by  the  breeze." 

"No,  my  lord.  Birch  trees  do  not  carry  a 
banner.  God  grant  they  have  not  seen  us  !  Let 
us  to  cover,  the  quicker  the  better,  for,  if  I  mis 
take  not,  they  are  Burgundians." 

"As  thou  wilt,  Robert.  'Ill  deeds  fly  apace,' 
but  not  John  of  Burgundy.  We  are  not  enough 
to  cope  with  even  one  of  his  troops,  and  I  would 
not  care  to  get  a  sword-thrust  from  yonder 
knaves  before  I  had  a  chance  to  join  King 
Henry.  If  you  will  take  charge  of  the  men  and1 
horses  so  they  lose  not  their  way  in  the  forest, 
I  will  keep  track  of  the  oncoming  Frenchmen." 

When  the  last  hoof-beat  was  heard  in  the 
distance  the  Earl,  keenly  observant,  felt  thank 
ful  that  no  answering  neigh,  no  indiscreet  sound, 
would  tell  of  their  presence.  He  was  hidden  in 
a  fir-copse  from  which  he  watched  Duke  John 
who,  in  breast-plate  and  mail,  rode  by  on  a 
superb  white  charger,  richly  caparisoned.  Be 
hind  him  were  his  esquires,  and  floating  over 
them  the  gold-fringed  banner  of  Burgundy.  As 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  horsemen,  three 
abreast  with  clinking  spurs  and  brightly  bur 
nished  accoutrements,  wound  in  and  out  like  a 
sinuous  serpent.  These  men,  one  could  readily 
see,  were  not  toy  soldiers  but  veterans.  The 
Earl  could  but  admire  their  confident  bearing, 
their  easy  seat  in  the  saddle  and  the  noble  horses 
that  bore  them.  He  wondered  whither  they 
rode.  Surely  not  to  Harfleur.  They  were  fac 
ing  the  opposite  direction.  "Can  it  be  that  Har- 


50  CONQUERORS  ALL 

fleur  has  capitulated?"  he  asked  himself — "that 
Henry  is  advancing?"  Straining  his  ears  he 
endeavored  to  gather  from  the  men's  conversa 
tion,  why  they  were  riding  away  from  the  Seine. 
He  felt  rewarded  when  one  man  said  to  an 
other,  "The  English  are  still  battering  at  the 
walls  of  Harfleur."  Anon  he  caught  the  words, 
"It's  beyond  Abbeville."  As  the  end  of  the 
troop  was  passing,  he  heard  one  of  the  men  ask 
his  mate,  "Where  is  Maisoncelles,  bon-vivant?" 
It  was  thus  he  ascertained  their  destination. 

In  battle  the  Earl  of  Wotton  was  fearless.  In 
a  case  like  this  he  thought  it  prudent  to  delay 
giving  the  signal  agreed  upon  between  himself 
and  Robert.  His  blood  surged  more  quickly  at 
the  thought  that  in  spite  of  the  distance  he  might 
yet  be  in  time  to  assist  at  the  siege.  A  half  hour 
later  they  were  once  more  on  the  road  to  Har 
fleur.  There  the  Earl  expected  to  find  his 
esquires,  Edward  of  Brentwood  and  Aleck  of 
Kent,  who  had  sailed  from  England  with  their 
liege  lord,  King  Henry.  These  young  men  were 
the  Earl's  nephews.  Both  had  a  gage  from 
their  fair  cousin,  Lady  Beatrice,  and  were 
eagerly  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  they 
should  fight  under  the  banner  of  Wotton. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  halted 
on  the  outskirts  of  a  small  hamlet.  Robert  had 
pushed  forward  as  scout.  When  he  reported 
that  there  were  no  other  troops  near,  they  again 
rode  on,  drawing  rein  where  they  saw,  idly  flap 
ping,  a  sign, — "The  Silver  Moon."  Here  the 
Earl  hoped  to  find  shelter  and  food. 


AT  THE  SILVER  MOON  51 

It  was  a  barren  room  which  the  Earl  and 
Robert  entered.  The  three  lozenge-paned  win 
dows  had,  instead  of  glass,  oiled  paper.  This 
was  so  thick  with  dust  and  festooned  with  cob 
webs  that  the  bright  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
failed  to  shine  through.  On  a  deal  table  extend 
ing  across  two-thirds  of  the  room,  were  three 
sputtering  candles,  mere  tallow  dips,  which  in 
tensified  the  gloom.  A  hooknosed,  wiry  French 
man  was  its  only  occupant,  unless  two  yellow 
cats,  blinking  on  the  hearth,  might  be  considered 
as  such.  The  room  had  an  evil  smell,  as  of 
unwashed  ale  tankards,  empty  wine-bottles,  foul 
breaths,  and  unclean  bodies. 

"Leave  the  door  open,  Robert,"  said  the 
Earl,  "this  room  needs  both  light  and  air.  Are 
you  the  host?"  he  asked,  turning  to  where  two 
beady  eyes,  with  lids  red-rimmed,  were  peering 
at  him  from  beneath  bent  brows. 

"No,  monsieur,  there  is  no  host.  Babette, 
Babette!"  he  screamed.  "Sacre  nom  de  Dieuf 
Where  is  the  old  hag?  Babette,  Babette,  I 
say!" 

In  response  a  tall,  angular,  broad-shouldered 
woman  with  unkempt  hair  opened  the  opposite 
door. 

"Mon   Dieu!     Do   you   think   I   am   deaf, 
Joaquin  Barbour,  and  have  naught  else  to  do 
but  wait  on  a  drunken  wretch  such  as  you?" 

The  man  muttered  a  curse  beneath  his  breath, 
then  said  with  an  attempt  at  politeness : 

"Here  are  gentles  wantin'  bed  and  board.  Go 
find  your  mistress." 


52  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Without  another  word  or  even  a  glance  in 
their  direction,  the  woman  turned  to  do  as  he 
bade  her,  slamming  the  door  behind  her.  In 
the  meantime,  Robert  of  Derwater  had  success 
fully  wrestled  with  the  rusty  fastenings  of  two 
of  the  windows.  As  he  threw  the  casements 
wide,  the  fresh,  sweet  air  blew  into  the  room. 
With  it  came  the  voices  of  children  at  play — 
happy  children's  laughter.  Above  these  cheer 
ful  sounds  rose  the  strident  tones  of  Babette, 
shouting, — "Madame  Moreau  !  Madame  Mo- 
reau!" 

"I  wonder,"  said  the  Earl,  "that  this  hostelry 
has  any  patronage !" 

"Yes,  you  old  sinner;  he,  he,  he  I" 

The  Earl's  face  flamed  with  anger  as  he 
turned  to  see  who  had  dared  insult  him,  to 
address  him  with  such  effrontery.  He  saw  a 
large  green  parrot  with  leering  eyes,  swinging 
in  a  cage  near  the  open  casement.  He  laughed 
with  gay  spontaneity;  he  had  a  keen  perception 
of  the  ludicrous. 

"Morbleuf"  roared  the  Frenchman,  shaking 
his  fist  at  the  bird.  "You  green  imp  of  Satan, 
shut  up  your  noise,  or  I'll  wring  your  neck!" 

This  seemed  to  greatly  amuse  the  parrot,  who 
cried  between  bursts  of  shrill  elfish  laughter: 

"Poor  Poll!  Wring  it,  wring  it!  Give  Poll 
a  biscuit.  Pretty  Poll,  pretty  Poll !" 

Evidently  Joaquin  Barbour  did  not  like  the 
parrot.  He  threw  at  the  cage  one  of  the  empty 
bottles  from  the  table.  But  this  only  provoked 
more  laughter  on  the  part  of  Poll,  and  a  string 


AT  THE  SILVER  MOON  53 

of  vile  oaths.  At  this  juncture,  the  door  which 
Barbette  had  slammed  after  her,  was  again 
opened  and  the  Earl  saw  on  the  threshold, 
framed  by  the  violet  sheen  of  the  fast  fading 
light,  a  beautiful  young  woman.  Her  purplish 
black  hair  was  cushioned  high,  while  here  and 
there  a  tiny  curl  touched  lightly  her  smooth 
brow  and  blue-veined  temples.  Her  clear  olive 
complexion,  rose-tinted  in  the  cheeks,  and  her 
bright  coral  lips  heightened  the  contrast  of  her 
black  sweeping  lashes,  beneath  which  the  Earl 
saw  blue  eyes,  luminous  with  the  light  of  the 
soul.  Her  daintily  poised  head,  with  chin  indi 
cative  of  firmness,  and  tall  supple  figure,  re 
minded  the  Earl  of  his  daughter,  although  one 
was  as  dark  as  the  other  was  fair. 

She  was  becomingly  attired  in  a  soft  woolen 
gown  of  dull  orange  trimmed  with  black  velvet. 
The  Earl  acknowledged  her  presence  with  state 
ly  formality,  bowing  till  the  long  plume  of  his 
hat  swept  the  floor.  The  contrast  between  her 
appearance  and  surroundings  was  so  incongru 
ous  that  it  quickened  within  him  an  intense  sur 
prise.  If  he  marvelled  at  the  perfection  of  her 
loveliness,  how  much  more  at  the  low  tones  of 
her  full,  sweet  voice  with  its  musical  modula 
tions. 

"Bon  soir,  monsieur.  I  am  Madame 
Moreau.  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

The  Earl  had  not  thought  of  her  as  hostess 
of  The  Silver  Moon,  yet,  suppressing  his  aston 
ishment,  he  asked  with  deference : 


54  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Can  Madame  accommodate  myself  and 
men?" 

"I  can  try,  monsieur.    How  many  are  they?" 

"Twenty,  besides  Robert  of  Derwater, 
here." 

"As  monsieur  sees,  my  house  is  small;  I 
might  feed  monsieur's  men,  but  sleep  them, 
No." 

"Could  I  not  billet  them  in  the  village, 
Madame  Moreau?" 

"I  think  not  monsieur.  They  might  find 
sleep  in  the  shed — there  is  fresh  hay  on  the 
mow." 

"That  will  do,  Madame,  if  you  can  provide 
for  me  and  Robert." 

"Oui,  monsieur.  This  room  is  for  the  men. 
Babette  will  attend  them.  But  you,  messieurs, 
come  with  me  to  my  salon." 

"He,  he,  he!"  cried  the  parrot.  "Go  it,  old 
sinner.  Take  pretty  Poll.  Polly  wants  a  bis 
cuit.  Poor  Poll!" 

Robert  followed  the  Earl  through  a  long, 
narrow  passage  to  a  wing  at  the  left,  Madame 
Moreau  leading  the  way.  The  room  into  which 
she  ushered  them  was  brightly  lighted,  and  was 
one  so  dissimilar  in  every  respect  to  the  other 
that  the  Earl  could  not  check  a  quick  indrawn 
breath  of  surprise. 

"Messieurs,  order  dinner.  Annette  will  at 
tend  you  to  the  guest-room.  I  regret  I  have  but 
one.  I  hope  the  messieurs  will  not  object  to 
sharing  it." 


AT  THE  SILVER  MOON  55 

The  Earl's  admiration  of  her  beauty  in 
creased  with  every  passing  moment.  Her 
youth,  her  loveliness,  the  nobility  of  her  expres 
sion,  the  instinctive  pride  and  force  of  her  char 
acter,  were  to  him  inconsistent  with  the  name  of 
Madame  Moreau. 

"I  trust,  madame,"  he  said,  "we  do  not  in 
commode  you.  If  there  were  need,  Robert  and 
I  would  be  satisfied  with  the  same  fare  as  our 
men." 

"Oh,  no,  monsieur.  Men  of  gentle  birth  sel 
dom  stop  here.  When  they  do,  this  room,  that 
Annette  will  show  you,  is  at  their  service." 

With  an  air  befitting  more  a  lady  of  the 
Court  than  the  hostess  of  a  country  inn,  she 
made  him  a  sweeping  curtsey,  saying: 

"Au  revoir,  messieurs,  till  dinner." 

Annette,  a  bright-eyed  peasant  girl,  conducted 
them  across  a  square  hall  into  a  large  room  with 
three  narrow  windows  and  two  beds.  Every 
thing  here  was  as  neat  and  tidy  as  they  could 
wish. 

"My  good  girl,  tell  your  mistress  we  shall 
be  satisfied  with  whatever  she  sets  before  us. 
We  have  been  long  on  the  road  and  are  both 
weary  and  hungry." 

Annette  went  smilingly  out,  closing  the  door 
behind  her.  The  Earl  waited  until  he  heard  her 
enter  the  salon,  then  said  to  Robert : 

"What  do  you  think  of  this,  lad?  We  enter 
a  pig-pen  and  see  two  swine;  when,  lo  and  be 
hold  !  a  goddess  appears.  Is  it  enchantment, 
say  you?" 


56  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Indeed,  my  lord,  'tis  strange,  passing 
strange !" 

"That's  true,  lad.  I  would  change  before 
dinner.  Do  you  think  you  can  find  your  way 
so  as  to  send  in  one  of  the  men  with  my  saddle 
bags?" 

"Yes,  my  lord.  I  perceived,  as  we  crossed 
the  hall,  that  there  was  a  door  which  opened 
into  the  yard.  I  will  go  by  that  and,  beshrew 
me,  if  I  do  not  find  both  men  and  saddle-bags." 

"Then  go  quickly,  lad,  while  I  remove  the 
dust  of  travel." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NEW  FRIENDS 

"Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseased, 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow, 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain 
And  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote 
Cleanse  the  stuffed  bosom  of  that  perilous  grief 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart?" 

— Macbeth. 

"This  pottage,  Madame  Moreau,"  said  the 
Earl,  "is  most  delicately  flavored,  and  I  have 
scarce  tasted  better  wine!" 

"Monsieur  hath,  perchance,  ridden  far  today. 
I  have  heard  it  said  that  nothing  whets  the  appe 
tite  like  a  long  day  in  the  saddle  over  a  dusty 
road." 

"  'Tis  true,  madame,  I  have  ridden  far. 
Still,  'my  palate  did  always  appreciate  tasty 
viands.  Then  it  is  pleasant  to  sit  at  meat  with 
so  fair  a  hostess.  You  remind  me  of  my  daugh 
ter,  with  whom  I  parted  yesterday." 

"Your  daughter?  I  took  you  for  an  English 
man  who  crossed  the  Channel  last  evening." 

"Madame,  you  are  not  mistaken.  I  have  a 
daughter,  Lady  Beatrice  of  Wotton.  Although 
she  is  fair  and  good  to  look  upon,  she  is  but  an 
unformed  maid — a  bud  half  opened;  while  you, 
Madame,  craving  your  pardon,  remind  me  of 
a  full-blown  rose  found  unexpectedly  in  the 
wilderness." 

57 


58  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Merci,  monsieur,  that  is  a  pretty  compli 
ment!  Then  your  daughter  is  here  in  France?" 

"Yes,  madame.  She  voyaged  hither  that  she 
might  pay  her  duty  to  her  grand-dame,  the 
Duchess  de  Berry.  We  are  but  twain;  there 
fore,  when  I  came  to  join  my  king,  I  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  her  across  the  channel.  You 
see,  she  is  an  old  man's  treasure." 

"Surely  you  are  not  old,  Lord  Wotton; 
scarce  have  you  reached  the  prime  of  life,  and 
are  doubtless  worth  a  score  of  young  men  with 
out  experience,  which  teaches  many  things." 

"The  kindness  of  that  thought,  madame,  is 
like  the  morning  dew  to  the  blossom  which, 
scorched  by  the  heat  of  the  sun  and  chilled  by 
the  cold  winds  of  night,  finds  new  life  in  every 
crystal  drop.  If  you  will  not  consider  me  over 
bold,  do  you  not  find  this  lonely  spot  one  un 
fitted  to  your  beauty  and  station?" 

"Monsieur  forgets  that  I  am  but  the  hostess 
of  an  inn;  and  as  to  beauty,  it  is  but  a  gift  of 
nature  and  as  like  to  have  been  another's  as 
mine." 

"Surely,  Madame  Moreau,  you  have  not 
always  been  the  hostess  of  an  inn?" 

"Monsieur,  once  I  was  a  child  at  my  mother's 
knee;  later,  I  was  convent  bred.  Now  I  am 
called,  Madame  Moreau.  Let  me  help  you  to 
something  more.  You  are  doing  my  dinner  but 
scant  justice." 

"One  forgets,  madame,  to  eat,  when  one 
catches  a  glimpse  of  God's  blue  sky  in  fathom 
less  pools,  and  has  a  hostess  such  as  you." 


NEW  FRIENDS  59 

"Perchance,  Lord  Wotton,  it  might  be  better 
for  me  to  withdraw." 

"No,  by  my  troth !  Then  would  darkness 
come  where  now  is  light;  bitter  herbs  in  place 
of  blooming  roses;  dull  company  instead  of 
conversation  which  exhilarates,  yes,  intoxi 
cates!" 

"One  can  see,  my  Lord  Wotton,  you  have 
been  a  courtier." 

"Not  so,  madame.  Is  it  not  strange  that,  as 
soon  as  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  standing  in 
the  open  door,  my  first  thought  was,  'What 
court  lady  is  this?'  ' 

"Did  you  think,  monsieur?" 

"Yes,  verily.  When  I  heard  Babette  calling 
'Madame  Moreau,'  I  expected — I  scarce  know 
what  I  did  expect!" 

A  smile  stole  into  her  eyes  lending  to  them 
a  velvety  softness,  fascinating  to  the  Earl. 
Slowly  it  crept  to  her  lips  and  the  cupid  bow 
took  on  new  sweetness  and  beauty.  The  tense 
aloofness  of  her  face  gave  way  to  a  girlish 
expression,  making  her  dangerously  bewitching. 
For  the  time  she  seemed  to  forget  every  bitter 
experience  of  the  past  and  her  present  environ 
ment — to  become  lost  in  a  blissful  reverie.  A 
dreamy  languor  like  an  invisible  veil  dimmed 
the  lustre  of  her  eyes;  her  lids  drooped  until 
their  long,  wavy  lashes  swept  her  cheeks.  The 
Earl,  as  he  watched  her  varying  expression, 
thought  of  a  beautiful  vase  he  had  once  seen, 
with  soft  glow  of  firelight  shining  through  it. 
He  wondered  what  was  her  birth;  what  her  life 


60  CONQUERORS  ALL 

had  been;  how  a  creature  so  fair,  so  refined,  so 
divinely  endowed  in  mind  and  body,  could  be 
living  in  so  desolate  a  spot,  and  why  she  should 
remain  there  unprotected.  He  tried  to  imagine 
her  thoughts.  It  was  not  idle  curiosity,  born  of 
the  place  and  the  hour,  but  a  sincere  sympathy, 
the  outgrowth  of  a  kindly  heart  wedded  to  a 
desire  to  lift  her  out  of  her  incongruous  sur 
roundings. 

With  a  sudden  start,  like  a  child  awakened 
from  sleep  by  a  bad  dream  and  not  realizing 
for  the  moment  where  she  was,  she  looked 
around  her.  It  was  then  that  the  Earl  saw  in 
her  eyes  an  expression  of  fear  allied  to  horror, 
and  again  he  asked  himself,  "Who  and  what  is 
she?" 

"Pardon,  my  Lord  Wotton,  I  am  but  a  dull 
hostess.  It  is  seldom  I  have  a  guest  to  enter 
tain  and  being  so  much  alone,  so  dependent  on 
myself  for  company,  I  fear  I  must  have  dropped 
into  a  daydream  which  I  trust  you  will  forgive." 

"Madame,  no  apologies  are  necessary.  If  I 
mistake  not,  I  also  lost  myself  in  reverie.  My 
daughter  often  chides  me.  Were  she  but  here, 
she  would  be  ready  with  her  quips  and  whimseys 
about  the  ancient  pine,  or  mayhap,  liken  me  to 
a  sere  and  yellow  leaf  ready  to  fall." 

''What  would  she  say  of  me,  Lord  Wotton? 
Surely  I  must  have  set  the  example!" 

"By  my  troth,  Madame  Moreau,  if  I  mistake 
not,  she  would  be  for  having  you  leave  the  inn 
to  join  in  her  pleasures.  She  cares  not  for  seclu- 


NEW  FRIENDS  61 

sion,  but  takes  kindly  to  gay  life  and  constant 
motion." 

"So  once  did  I,  Lord  Wotton." 

"I  am  old  enough,  Madame,  to  be  your 
father,  therefore  take  no  offence  if  I  say  I  trust 
you  will  be  so  again.  You  are  too  young  and 
too  fair  to  be  lost  here !" 

Madame  Moreau  gave  a  suppressed  sigh  as 
she  idly  crumbled  her  bread.  Then,  taking  a 
sip  of  wine  she  said,  as  one  who  unwittingly 
speaks  aloud  her  thoughts: 

"If  I  had  been  blessed  with  such  a  father, 
what  might  I  not  have  made  of  my  life;  but 
now,  what  hope  is  there  for  me !" 

The  Earl,  knowing  that  these  words  were  not 
intended  for  his  ear,  turned  to  Robert  who  sat 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  asking: 

"Are  you  making  out  with  your  dinner,  lad?" 

"Yes,  my  lord,  I  have  been  eating." 

"Do  not  then,  out  of  courtesy,  wait  for  me, 
Robert.  I  would  deem  it  a  kindness  if  you 
would  see  that  the  men  drink  not  too  freely,  and 
that  the  horses  have  been  well  looked  to.  I 
purpose  to  be  on  the  road  by  dawn.  Before  you 
go,  let  me  present  you  to  our  hostess;  this, 
Madame  Moreau,  is  a  brave  captain  of  archers, 
one  Robert  of  Derwater ;  while  I  have  the  honor 
to  be  the  fifth  Earl  of  Wotton." 

"I  took  you,  Monsieur  Derwater,  for  a  cap 
tain  at  least.  I  have  heard  that  the  yeoman 
archers  of  England  are  the  backbone  of  her 
army.  As  for  you,  my  Lord  Wotton,  I  saw  at 
a  glance  that  you  were  noble !" 


62  CONQUERORS  ALL 

To  Robert's  tanned  cheek  had  come  a  quick 
flush  of  pleasure,  as,  with  an  awkward  bow  to 
Madame  Moreau,  he  retired  from  the  room. 

A  knowing  smile  broke  over  his  frank,  honest 
face  as  the  door  closed  behind  him.  "I'll  not 
forget  the  Earl's  conversation,"  he  thought. 
"Will  try  it  upon  Bess,  when  next  I  see  her !" 

Madame  Moreau  passed  the  Earl  the  decan 
ter,  saying: 

"This  is  Bordeaux  which,  I  am  told,  the  Eng 
lish  prefer." 

"By  its  color  and  bouquet,  madame,  it  must 
be  an  old  vintage." 

"Yes,  it  is,  Lord  Wotton." 

Lifting  his  glass  the  Earl  said  gravely: 

"Permit  me  to  wish  you  a  future  such  as  your 
youth  could  not  fail  to  enjoy.  When  peace  once 
more  reigns  between  England  and  France,  may 
we  meet  again,  you  in  your  proper  sphere  which 
your  beauty  would  adorn.  Accept  my  sincere 
thanks  for  a  pleasant  hour,  and  my  earnest  hope 
that  you  may  ever  find  happiness." 

"That  is  kind,  Lord  Wotton.  Madame 
Moreau  will  not  readily  forget  the  Earl  of  Wot 
ton  or  his  kindness  to  one  who,  as  he  has 
divined,  has  cause  for  unhappiness.  Let  me 
think  of  you  not  as  a  traveler  who  pays  his  reck 
oning,  but  as  an  honored  guest.  I  need  not 
money — that  I  have  in  plenty.  It  mocks  me,  for 
it  cannot  buy  me  peace." 

"No,  no,  Madame  Moreau,  the  Earl  of  Wot 
ton  cannot  accept  his  keep  and  that  of  his  men 
from  any  one." 


NEW  FRIENDS  63 

"Then,  Lord  Wotton,  you  will  take  from  me 
a  pleasant  memory.  By  thus  refusing  you  force 
me  to  remember  the  difference  between  the  Earl 
of  Wotton  and  Madame  Moreau,  hostess  of 
The  Silver  Moon." 

"Well,  well,  for  once  then  will  I  place  myself 
under  obligation  to  a  stranger — a  woman,  a 
beautiful  woman  at  that !  May  we  meet  again 
in  brighter  days.  Till  then,  fare  thee  well  1" 

"Au  revoir,  monsieur.     Bonne  fortune!" 

At  cockcrow  the  Earl  awoke.  He  could  hear 
the  low  hum  of  his  men  preparing  for  the  road. 
Robert,  already  dressed,  had  left  the  room. 
The  Earl  was  not  long  in  making  ready,  being 
in  haste  to  proceed  on  his  journey.  The  Earl's 
sleep  had  been  disturbed  by  troubled  dreams — 
vague  unrest  had  stirred  him.  He  could  not 
free  his  mind  from  thoughts  of  Madame 
Moreau.  His  kindly  nature  dwelt  often  upon 
her  seeming  loneliness :  he  found  himself  com 
paring  his  daughter's  sheltered  life  with  that  of 
this  lovely  woman.  In  this  way  his  fair  hos 
tess  crept  unconsciously  into  his  heart.  As  he 
opened  the  door,  Annette,  candle  in  hand,  met 
him. 

"My  lord  is  up?"  she  asked,  with  a  bobbing 
courtesy.  "His  breakfast  is  served  in  the 
salon." 

"My  good  girl,  I  did  not  intend  to  trespass 
on  Madame  Moreau's  hospitality!" 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  my  lord,  Madame  left  her 
orders  last  night,  that  you  and  your  men  should 


64  CONQUERORS  ALL 

have  hot  food  and  wine.  The  men  have  eaten. 
Will  my  lord  come  now?" 

As  he  entered  the  salon  the  Earl  gave  a  hasty 
glance  about  the  candle-lighted  room:  not  that 
he  really  expected  to  see  Madame  Moreau,  yet 
it  exhaled  a  delicate  fragrance,  making  it  seem 
as  though  she,  too,  must  be  there.  He  felt 
that  his  presence  was  an  intrusion,  so  much  so 
that,  under  the  circumstances  he  would  almost 
have  preferred  to  forego  breakfast.  As  he 
inhaled  the  rich  aroma  of  the  steaming  viands, 
saw  the  broiled  chicken,  the  golden  pat  of  but 
ter,  the  honey  and  tempting  rolls  a  delicate 
brown,  he  could  not  help  thinking  that  it  would 
be  much  pleasanter  to  start  on  his  journey  after 
such  a  meal  than  if  he  had  gone  without,  as  had 
been  his  intention.  Rising  from  the  table  he 
said  pleasantly  to  Annette,  who  stood  silently 
waiting : — 

"Take  this,  my  good  girl,  to  buy  a  ribbon 
or  a  new  kirtle;  and  say  to  Madame  Moreau 
that  the  Earl  of  Wotton  thanks  her  sincerely  for 
her  hospitality  and  kindness.  Also,  do  not  for 
get  to  tell  her  that  should  she  ever  need  a 
friend,  the  Earl  of  Wotton  will  gladly  serve 
her." 

A  half  hour  later  the  Earl  with  Robert  at 
his  side,  his  men  following  close,  rode  away 
from  The  Silver  Moon,  their  faces  turned 
toward  Harfleur.  Had  he  looked  back  he 
might  have  seen,  peeping  from  between  the 
curtains,  the  face  of  Madame  Moreau  bathed 
in  tears.  Manlike,  he  was  deeply  engrossed  in 


NEW  FRIENDS  65 

a  discussion  as  to  the  length  of  time  it  would 
take  to  arrive  at  the  camp  of  King  Henry. 

It  was  a  lowering  morning.  Tattered  white 
clouds,  with  shaded  gray  borders,  scudded  across 
a  washed-out  sky.  The  wind  blew  fitfully.  The 
trees  soughedi  and  creaked,  as  if  mourning. 
Away  on  the  horizon  to  the  east  was  a  long  bar, 
as  though  a  brush  dipped  in  black  paint  had 
been  drawn  across  the  sky.  Below  it  were  great 
folds  of  orange-gray.  The  effect  was  sinister. 
The  Earl  called  Robert's  attention  first  to  the 
wind  clouds,  then  to  the  black  curtain  in  the 
east,  saying  earnestly: — 

"It  is  fortunate  the  men  had  a  hot  breakfast. 
If  I  mistake  not,  we  shall  get  a  wetting  inside 
of  an  hour,  if  no  worse.  Let  us  push  on:  per 
chance  we  may  find  shelter  if  the  storm  prove 
severe." 

It  was  a  desolate  picture.  At  the  left  was  a 
long  stretch  of  forest;  to  the  right  the  land  was 
low  and  marshy;  the  yellowish-gray  light  made 
the  trees,  the  scanty  grass  and  the  thickets  look 
as  if  scorched  and  shriveled  by  the  hot  rays  of 
the  sun,  till  all  vestige  of  green  had  been 
destroyed.  The  road  stretched  away  as  far  as 
eye  could  reach  without  even  a  hut  to  break 
the  monotony.  The  threatening  sky,  the  yel 
lowish  haze  which  so  surely  foretold  a  wetting 
depressed,  not  only  the  Earl,  but  his  followers. 
Even  Robert's  face  lost  its  jovial  expression, 
while  the  red  of  his  cheeks  became  a  sickly 
yellow. 

They  had  been  riding  about  two  hours  since 


66  CONQUERORS  ALL 

leaving  The  Silver  Moon,  when  the  storm 
broke.  It  was  heralded  by  great  clouds  of  dust 
which  the  wind  seemed  fairly  to  scoop  up  and 
throw  at  them.  They  were  glad  to  bend  their 
heads  low  the  better  to  protect  their  eyes  from 
the  stinging  particles  of  dirt.  Fiercer  and  fiercer 
blew  the  blast.  Great  limbs  were  broken  off 
the  trees  and  hurled  into  the  road.  Leaves  and 
twigs  eddied  round  and  round.  The  groaning 
and  rending,  as  the  wind  now  and  again  tore 
up  young  saplings  by  the  roots,  excited  and 
frightened  the  mettlesome  horses.  The  most 
inured  and  hardened  of  the  men  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  keep  their  seats  in  the  saddle  as,  with  a 
furious  rush,  the  wind  bore  against  them.  Their 
faces  were  cut  by  the  gravel  while  the  wind 
seemed  determined  to  carry  away  some  part 
of  their  clothing  and  more  than  one  lost  his 
hat.  Down  fell  the  rain,  not  a  gentle  drizzle, 
nor  drops  far  apart,  but  a  steady  downpour, 
as  though  the  clouds  hanging  above  them  were 
great  eyes  full  to  overflowing  of  long  pent-up 
emotion,  till  the  vast  ocean  of  tears  brimmed 
over,  an  irresistible  torrent,  drenching  them  to 
the  skin.  Still  they  pressed  on,  for  as  yet  they 
had  seen  no  sign  of  shelter. 

Darker  and  darker  grew  the  sky.  Louder 
and  more  fiercely  blew  the  blast,  while  the  rain, 
confluent,  dense,  impenetrable,  hid  the  very  road 
from  their  sight.  The  Earl  and  Robert  were 
obliged  to  depend  blindly  upon  their  horses. 
They  knew  not  what  was  before  them.  Neither 
spoke,  realizing  the  impossibility  of  being  heard. 


NEW  FRIENDS  67 

Each   felt   a   vague   anxiety,    a    foreboding   of 
danger. 

At  last,  above  the  loud  blast  of  the  tempest 
they  heard  the  muffled  blare  of  a  trumpet.  As 
if  this  were  a  signal  for  the  wind  to  subside 
and  the  rain  to  cease,  the  storm  abated.  The 
black  curtain  rolled  away  like  a  scroll,  the  yel 
low-gray  folds  parted,  the  sun,  like  God's 
golden  banner,  shone  forth.  The  clouds  scat 
tered  and  the  sky,  as  if  swept  clean  by  a  master 
hand,  became  a  brilliant  azure. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF 
D'EPERNON 

"His  heart  and  hand  both  open  and  both  free; 
For  what  he  has  he  gives." 

— Troilus  and  Cressida. 

Loud  and  shrill  blew  the  trumpeter.  The 
Earl  who  was  riding  in  advance  saw,  on  a  dis 
tant  plateau  a  half  league  away,  a  large  troop 
of  horse.  The  sun's  rays  brought  into  bold 
relief  the  Lilies  of  France  on  a  blue  satin  ban 
ner  fringed  with  gold:  this  apparently  had  not 
been  out  in  the  storm.  The  jewels  on  the 
trappings  of  the  Due  de  Berry's  horse  shot  forth 
gleams  of  iridescent  fire.  The  brow  of  the  hill 
on  which  the  Earl  drew  rein  was  somewhat 
higher  than  that  which  the  French  troop  were 
descending.  This  gave  him  a  better  view  of 
his  foe  than  they  could  have  of  him  or  his 
retinue. 

What  to  do  in  the  present  emergency,  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  the  French  outnumbered  him, 
at  least  three  to  one,  was  a  difficult  question  to 
answer.  The  Earl  realized  that  something 
must  be  done  and  that  at  once.  Turning  to 
Robert  he  asked  seriously: — 

"What  do  you  think?  Would  it  be  possible 
68 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  D'EPERNON  69 

for  us  to  contend  with  yonder  troop  to  our 
advantage?" 

"No,  my  lord.  To  my  mind  it  were  better 
to  ride  back  to  where,  if  I  mistake  not,  there 
is  a  wood  road.  Though  it  may  make  the 
distance  longer  by  two  leagues,  yet  it  is  better 
to  ride  far  with  a  whole  skin  than  to  lie  by  the 
roadside  riddled  with  bullets  or  the  thrust  of 
a  sword." 

"That  is  true,  Robert:  turn  back  with  the 
men  and  ride  quickly!  I  will  watch  until  all 
are  down  the  hill,  then  I,  too,  will  hasten  and 
catch  up  with  you." 

The  brave  captain  of  archers  was  a  soldier 
to  his  finger-tips :  he  obeyed  at  once.  The  Earl 
felt  confident  that  he  and  his  followers  had  not 
been  seen  by  the  French  horsemen.  He  wished 
to  be  certain  that  the  troop  did  not  turn  off  to 
the  left.  His  reason  told  him  that  should  the 
horsemen  do  so,  they  would  cross  the  road 
which  Robert  had  proposed  to  take.  Looking 
back  the  Earl  saw  that  his  retainers  were 
already  out  of  sight,  while  the  French  were 
rapidly  approaching.  As  far  as  he  could  see 
they  came  in  close  phalanx.  The  head  of  the 
column  halted.  The  Earl  drew  in  his  breath 
with  a  sharp  rasping  sound.  As  the  troop 
began  the  ascent  he  turned  his  horse  and  with 
words  of  encouragement,  to  which  the  intelli 
gent  animal  was  quick  to  respond,  rode  swiftly 
away  from  the  advancing  enemy. 

When  the  Due  de  Berry  with  his  esquires 
topped  the  hill  where  they  had  so  lately  seen 


70  CONQUERORS  ALL 

the  English,  the  Earl  and  his  good  horse  had 
disappeared  from  sight.  Again  the  Duke  halted, 
fearing  an  ambush.  He  listened  intently,  but 
the  hoofs  of  the  Earl's  great  roan  were  dulled 
by  the  soft  springy  moss  which  he  spurned  so 
lightly.  Once  more  the  Earl  whispered  to 
Saladin  who,  with  head  held  high,  and  nostrils 
dilated,  stretched  his  long  limbs  to  greater 
speed.  Beyond  was  a  turn  in  the  road:  this 
reached,  he  knew  that  the  trees  would  hide  him. 
He  wished  also  to  catch  up  with  Robert. 

The  Due  de  Berry's  gray  stallion  pawed  the 
earth  with  impatience.  Still  his  master  sat  lost 
in  thought.  What  cared  he  that  his  men  and 
their  restive  steeds  were  awaiting?  He  was 
trying  to  decide  if  the  hated  English  were  hiding 
in  the  valley  below.  Once  more  he  lived  over 
the  battle  of  Poitiers,  where  Frenchmen  fell  like 
fresh  grain  before  the  English  reaper.  There 
he  had  acquired  a  wholesome  fear  of  their 
archers. 

The  Earl  joined  Robert  before  the  Duke 
began  the  descent  of  the  hill.  Had  the  Earl 
known  this  he  would  not  have  urged  forward  at 
such  speed  the  storm-spent  men  and  horses.  The 
Duke  finally  made  up  his  mind  that  the  English 
man  and  his  followers  were  but  a  mirage.  He 
laughed  jocosely  as  he  said  to  one  of  his  es 
quires  : — 

"Would  we  could  vanquish  the  English  with 
as  little  blood-letting  as  the  phantoms  we  so 
lately  saw!" 

The  Earl,  who  had  ridden  for  a  long  time 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  D'EPERNON  7 1 

in  silence,  at  last  turned  to  Robert,  asking  wear- 
ily:-_ 

"Is  it  much  farther  to  the  main  road?" 

"About  three  leagues,  my  lord.  Adzooks ! 
if  we  could  but  meet  a  band  of  Frenchmen  that 
did  not  offset  us  three  to  one,  faith,  I  would 
teach  them  a  lesson !  That's  why  I  burn  to 
reach  Harfleur." 

"It  were  better,  as  you  are  the  king's  mes 
senger,  Robert,  that  you  avoid  fighting  until 
you  have  reported  the  result  of  your  mission. 
Then,  beshrew  me,  the  chance  will  be  yours!" 

Once  more  they  dropped  into  silence.  The 
Earl  was  thinking  of  his  daughter;  Robert,  of 
Bess.  On,  on,  they  rode  slowly  and  still  more 
slowly  as  the  afternoon  waned.  Men  and 
horses  were  tired  and  hungry.  As  the  sun,  a 
red  ball  of  fire,  was  sinking  out  of  sight  in  a 
sea  of  topaz  and  opal,  they  arrived  at  a  ruined 
chateau.  Near  its  gate  was  a  comfortable  cot 
tage,  with  soft  rings  of  smoke  curling  up  from 
the  chimney.  Standing  in  the  vine-covered  porch 
was  a  stout,  motherly  woman,  her  gray  hair 
bound  neatly  with  a  black  silk  handkerchief. 
One  hand  shaded  her  eyes  from  the  sun,  the 
other  rested  on  the  shoulder  of  a  rosy-cheeked 
boy.  The  child,  when  he  saw  the  Earl  and  his 
men  drawing  rein,  shouted  gladly: 

"Oh,  granny,  see  the  soldiers!" 

The  Earl,  doffing  his  hat  as  courteously  as 
though  he  were  about  to  address  one  of  his 
own  rank,  asked  with  a  pleasant  smile : 


72  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Good  mother,  can  you  provide  food  and 
shelter  for  me  and  my  men?" 

"No,  my  lord;  methinks  our  small  cot  would 
scarce  give  shelter  to  so  many." 

"But,  mother,  we  are  wet,  hungry  and  tired — 
sore  spent  with  a  long  day's  ride  in  the  storm. 
Do  you  not  think  you  could  arrange  it?  We 
mind  not  how  humble  the  fare  if  it  be  but  clean 
and  wholesome.  Reconsider,  mother:  I  am 
ready  to  pay  you  well." 

While  the  Earl  was  speaking,  a  bright-eyed, 
curly  haired  lad  of  perhaps  eighteen  summers 
came  out  to  the  porch,  where  he  stood  listening 
intently.  He  whispered  a  few  words  to  the 
small  boy  who,  one  could  see,  was  his  brother. 
The  child  ran  quickly  to  the  rear  of  the  cottage, 
calling: 

"Grand-pere,  grand-pere!" 

The  eyes  of  the  old  woman  took  in  at  a 
glance  the  wet  bedraggled  state,  not  only  of  the 
Earl  but  of  the  men,  and  her  kind  heart 
prompted  her  to  make  an  attempt  to  provide 
for  their  needs. .  She  was  thinking  where  she 
could  bestow  them,  how  fill  so  many  mouths  and 
empty  stomachs,  when  the  boy,  Paul,  came 
springing  along  by  the  side  of  his  grand-pere. 
The  Earl  saw  by  the  old  man's  bearing  that 
he  had  been  a  soldier,  and  at  once  took  heart. 

"Mon  enfant  tells  me,  Monsieur,  that  you 
crave  food  and  shelter  from  his  granny,  Jean- 
nette." 

Lifting  his  hat  the  Earl  replied  gravely : 

"Yes,  sir.     You  can  see  we  have  travelled 


THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  D'EPERNON  73 

far — we  were  in  the  belt  of  the  storm.  Since 
dawn  we  have  not  broken  our  fast.  For  food 
and  lodging  I  am  prepared  to  pay  good  English 
gold.  If  I  mistake  not,  you  also  have  been  a 
soldier?" 

The  old  man's  eyes  kindled.  He  stood  more 
erect  as  he  said  proudly: 

"Oui,  monsieur,  I  have — but  a  French  sol 
dier!  Still,  it  shall  not  be  said  that  Basil  of  the 
House  of  d'Epernon  refused  food  or  shelter  to 
man  or  beast,  whether  English  or  French. 
Andre,  take  monsieur's  horse  and  show  his  men 
where  they  can  find  provender.  Then  see  that  a 
fire  is  built  in  the  great  hall  at  the  chateau.  I 
trust,  my  lord,  you  will  accept  lodgment  in  our 
poor  cottage  where  ma  femme,  Jeannette,  can 
later  look  to  it  that  your  clothing  is  dried  and 
brushed." 

"If  you  will  see  that  Saladin  is  well  cared 
for,  I  will  go  in  and  rest.  Do  not  tarry  with 
the  men  at  the  chateau.  I  feel  sure  that  Dame 
Jeannette  will  give  a  hearty  welcome  to  a  comely 
lad  like  you." 

The  kitchen  which  he  entered  was  spotlessly 
clean.  On  the  wall  opposite  the  door  hung 
copper  cooking  utensils  which  had  been  scoured 
until  they  shone  bright  as  gold.  A  dresser 
stood  near  on  which  was  ranged  blue  delft  and 
white  earthen  ware.  The  Earl,  glancing  at  the 
sword  over  the  fireplace,  marked  its  basket  hilt, 
well  battered,  as  though  from  much  service.  A 
large  bow,  with  a  sheaf  of  tall  arrows  in  the 
farthest  corner  also  caught  his  eye.  He  smiled 


74  CONQUERORS  ALL 

as  the  thought  flitted  through  his  mind  that 
these  would  be  the  first  objects  to  attract 
Robert's  attention.  A  bright  fire  glowed  on  the 
hearth,  while  on  the  stone  mantel  above  it  were 
two  shining  pewter  candlesticks;  between  them, 
carved  in  ebony,  hung  a  crucifix.  In  the  centre 
of  the  room  was  a  square  deal  table  scrubbed 
to  snowy  whiteness.  There  was  but  one  chair; 
this  Dame  Jeannette  pushed  to  the  window 
for  the  Earl,  while  Basil,  after  his  guest  was 
seated,  sat  down  on  a  stool  with  Paul's  curly 
head  laid  confidingly  against  his  arm.  As  the 
Earl  looked  upon  the  homely  scene  a  restful 
feeling  stole  over  him.  It  made  him  think  of 
the  forester's  lodge  at  Wotton,  of  old  Guy  and 
his  good  wife,  Margaret. 

Dame  Jeannette  stirred  the  fire,  adding  new 
fagots,  then  hung  on  the  crane  a  large  copper 
kettle,  into  which  she  put  so  many  ingredients 
that  the  Earl  idly  wondered  what  it  could  be. 
Andre  now  brought  in  two  well  fattened  capons 
ready  dressed  for  the  spit.  These  were  soon 
roasting.  In  the  hot  ashes  his  grand-dame  had 
buried  such  a  quantity  of  onions  that  the  Earl 
smilingly  said : 

"You  pamper  our  appetite,  good  mother." 

"Non,  Monsieur,  there  is  nothing  better  to 
ward  off  a  cold  after  a  wetting  than  onions 
baked  in  the  ashes.  I  doubt  if  I  have  enough 
for  you  and  your  men." 

Taking  down  wooden  bowls  and  pewter  por 
ringers  from  behind  a  drawn  curtain,  Dame 
Jeannette  said  to  her  grand-son : 


THE  HOSPITALITYOFTHE  HOUSE  OF  D'EPERNON  75 

"Now,  my  lad,  by  the  time  you  have  taken 
these  basins  to  the  chateau  and  two  loaves  of 
black  bread  with  a  flagon  of  wine,  the  ragout 
will  be  done." 

Robert  had  detailed  a  broad-shouldered  Scot, 
one  Sandy  MacPherson,  to  assist  Andre  and 
the  three  entered  the  cottage  together.  Sandy's 
roving  blue  eye  took  in  the  fire-lighted  room 
with  its  simple  belongings,  and  brightened  with 
pleasure  when  the  odor  of  the  savoury  mixture 
which  the  dame  was  stirring  in  the  kettle, 
steamed  into  his  face.  His  capacious  mouth 
stretched  into  a  broad  grin  when  he  was  told  to 
lift  it  from  the  crane.  Paul  broke  into  a  merry 
laugh  at  the  red-haired  Scotchman's  droll  ex 
pression,  as  he  smacked  his  lips  at  the  prospect 
of  dinner.  When  Robert  bade  him  carry  it  to 
the  men  at  the  chateau,  his  grin  became  a 
chuckle  of  delight. 

Over  the  table  the  dame  spread  a  coarse 
white  cloth,  and  then  bid  the  Earl  and  Robert 
fall  to.  This  they  did  with  a  zest.  The  Earl 
praised  the  viands  which  Dame  Jeannette 
placed  before  him  till  her  eyes  glowed  and  her 
cheeks  flushed  with  pardonable  satisfaction. 
Andre  and  Paul  listened  silently  while  their 
grand-pere  asked  many  questions  concerning  the 
English  King.  Basil  seemed  a  man  of  unusual 
intelligence.  Before  the  evening  ended,  the  Earl 
of  Wotton  had  heard  glowing  accounts  of  the 
Frenchmen's  feudal  Lord,  the  Comte  Raoul 
d'Epernon.  He  also  learned  of  the  gathering 
at  Rouen,  and  now  understood  why  the  Dukes 


76  CONQUERORS  ALL 

of  Burgundy  and  Berry  were  riding  away  from 
Harfleur. 

The  next  morning  the  Earl  and  his  retinue 
were  early  in  their  saddles,  and  before  the  sun 
had  risen  had  ridden  a  good  league  nearer  the 
Seine.  Robert  was  certain  that  by  nightfall  they 
would  arrive  at  King  Henry's  camp,  and  with 
another  dawn  be  taking  part  in  the  siege. 

The  Earl  left  the  good  people  at  the  cottage 
the  richer  for  his  coming,  and  bore  away  with 
him  a  thorough  appreciation  of  the  valor  and 
nobility  of  character  of  the  Comte  Raoul  d'Ep- 
ernon ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


"Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  wooed  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won  ?" 
— Shakespeare. 

In  spite  of  all  Lady  Beatrice  had  undergone 
since  landing  near  the  mouth  of  the  Somme 
from  the  good  ship  Lively  :  in  spite  of  the  varied 
incidents  of  her  first  day's  journey,  her  excite 
ment,  her  fatigue,  her  abduction,  her  rescue 
from  the  band  of  robbers,  her  ride  through  the 
dark  forest — she  awoke  at  noon  on  her  second 
day  in  France  as  rested  and  blithe  as  though 
she  had  slept  throughout  the  long  night  in  her 
own  dainty  room  at  Wotton.  With  one  hand 
pressed  between  the  coarse  linen  and  her  softly 
rounded  cheek,  she  watched  Bess  from  beneath 
her  long  lashes,  as  she  stepped  noiselessly  about 
the  room  attending  to  her  duties. 

The  thoughts  of  Lady  Beatrice  were  pictur 
ing  all  that  had  happened  since  her  arrival  in 
France.  She  was  living  over  in  memory  the 
strange  adventures  of  the  day  before. 

"What  are  doing,  Bess?"  she  asked  at  last. 
"Do  you  realize  that,  since  leaving  home,  I 
have  experienced  more  of  life  in  half  as  many 
days  as  I  have  lived  years  at  dear  old  Wotton?" 

"That's  true,  Lady  Beatrice;  but  did  you  see 
the  prisoner  this  morning  when  we  alighted  at 
the  inn?"  77 


78  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"No,  Bess,  did  you?  All  thoughts  of  him 
have  left  me  as  quickly  as  you  slipped  from  the 
arms  of  Robert  of  Derwater,  when  I  called 
to  you  on  shipboard.  Do  you  remember?" 

"It's  not  well,  my  lady,  for  a  poor  lass  like 
me  to  think  too  much  about  a  captain  of 
archers.  It  might  be  better  were  I  to  take  up 
with  Jock,  whom  I  have  known  all  my  life. 
Do  you  not  think  so?" 

Lady  Beatrice  yawned,  showing  her  beauti 
ful  teeth.  Then,  stretching  her  arms  over  her 
head,  she  asked  with  a  laugh,  half  sleepy,  half 
mirthful : 

"Is  he  old  or  young?  Short  or  tall?  Hand 
some  or  ugly?  Do  you  know  his  title?  Me- 
thinks  I  heard  Simon  call  him  'Count,'  but  I 
am  not  certain.  If  you  have  seen  him,  tell  me 
all  you  know  while  dressing  my  hair.  But  we 
must  hasten,  Bess:  every  moment  I  expect  to 
hear  Simon's  knock  at  the  door." 

"Well,  my  lady,  he  kept  in  the  shadow  while 
we  were  drinking  our  posset  in  the  kitchen,  but 
once,  when  I  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the 
chimney,  I  got  a  good  look  at  him.  He  is  as 
tall  as  the  Earl,  your  father,  though  slighter  in 
build,  yet  fair  to  look  upon.  His  hair  is  dark 
chestnut,  and  his  eyes  of  deep  hazel.  He  re 
minded  me  of  that  great  deer  at  Wotton,  whose 
long,  branching  antlers,  so  Jock  said,  showed 
he  was  king  of  the  forest.  When  I  saw  him 
this  morning,  he  gave  just  such  a  toss  to  his 
head  and  as  fearless  a  glance  from  his  eye  as 


ON  THROUGH  TROUBLOUS  PICARDY          79 

did  'Grand  Monarch' — that's  what  Jock  calls 
the  deer." 

"Did  this  stranger  speak  to  you,  Bess?  Praise 
your  supple  waist, — the  glint  of  your  eye?  Or 
did  he  try,  like  Sir  Harry,  to  take  the  dew  from 
your  lips,  or  was  it  the  bloom  from  your  cheek?" 

"No,  my  lady:  your  mind  dwells  too  much 
on  Sir  Harry!  I  pray  you  forget  him,  and 
think  more  of  Aleck  of  Kent.  He  is  an  Eng 
lishman:  broad-shouldered,  deep-chested,  fair 
as  thyself:  good  to  look  upon,  with  a  voice  as 
cheery  and  hearty  as,  as — as  the  west  wind 
through  the  copper  beech  at  Wotton  in  the 
month  of  May.  'T  would  please  your  father 
better  to  have  you  smile  on  your  cousin  Aleck 
than  to  love  a  French  Count." 

"Fiddle-de-dee !  Have  you  forgotten,  Bess 
what  I  said  to  you  yesterday?  I  have  no  mind 
to  love  anyone.  Still  Aleck  might  have  been 
in  better  business  than  urging  you  to  sing  his 
praises  as  you  do  from  morning  till  night.  What 
did  he  give  you,  Bess,  for  all  the  sweet  things 
you  are  constantly  saying  about  him?  As  to 
the  French  Count,  I  do  not  know,  even  now, 
whether  he  is  as  old  as  Methuselah,  or  still  in 
swaddling  clothes.  The  most  I  can  gather  is 
that  you  think  him  a  dear!" 

"Who  knows,  my  lady,  but  what  before  the 
new  moon  you,  too,  may  think  so,  even  more 
than  your  Bess.  It's  unkind  of  you  to  ask  me 
if  I  took  favor  from  your  cousin.  I  sing  his 
praise  for  he  seems  to  me  the  one  best  fitted 
to  be  your  lord  and  master." 


80  CONQUERORS  ALL 

At  that  moment  Simon's  voice  was  heard  out 
side  the  door,  asking  in  tones  of  concern : 

"Are  you  ill,  Lady  Beatrice?  If  not,  I  will 
send  you  your  breakfast  and  dinner  together, 
for  inside  the  hour  we  should  be  again  on  the 
road." 

Lady  Beatrice  donned  her  Lincoln  green 
habit,  and  as  Bess  fastened  the  frill  of  lace  at 
her  throat,  she  bade  Simon  enter,  saying  as  he 
did  so: 

"Do  not  scold  me,  good  Simon,  for  over 
sleeping.  You  see  I  am  ready.  When  I  have 
broken  my  fast  I  will  ride  Spitfire  so  swiftly 
that  even  Ajax  will  have  all  he  can  do  to  keep 
by  my  side!" 

Simon's  weatherbeaten  face  broke  into  a  rug 
ged  smile  as  he  looked  at  his  young  mistress 
who,  fresh  as  a  meadow  daisy,  returned  his 
glance  with  one  that  his  own  daughter  might 
have  given  him.  To  Bess  he  said,  no  longer 
smiling: 

"Get  you  gone,  lass,  for  your  young  mistress' 
breakfast,  and  stay  not  to  chatter." 

With  a  toss  of  her  head  Bess  left  them.  When 
the  door  had  closed,  Simon  said  to  Lady  Beat 
rice,  this  time  with  a  serious  expression: 

"My  lady,  we  have  in  our  train  the  Comte 
d'Epernon,  my  prisoner.  Of  the  two  evils,  I 
chose  the  lesser.  I  grant  him  a  gallant  swords 
man,  quick  at  fence  as  your  father,  a  proper 
man.  The  Earl  put  you  in  my  charge  and  as  I 
wot  not  of  this  Count,  except  that  he  be  not 
lacking  in  courage,  I  deemed  it  wise  to  give 


ON  THROUGH  TROUBLOUS  PICARDY          81 

advice.  You  are  young,  unused  to  the  world 
and  its  ways.  I  may  express  myself  poorly, 
as  I  know  more  of  spear  and  lance  than  of 
maidens,  yet  God  wot  I  do  my  best  in  sug 
gesting  that  you  ward  off  his  attentions  as  you 
would  the  thrust  of  a  rapier,  for  he  is  keen 
witted  and  more  than  that,  a  Frenchman  !" 

Bess,  with  a  dancing  smile  about  her  lips  and 
a  mischievous  look  in  her  eyes  which  made  her 
young  mistress  certain  she  had  overheard 
Simon's  well  meant  advice,  now  stepped  into 
the  room  bearing  a  full  tray. 

"You  can  depend  on  me,  Simon,"  said  Lady 
Beatrice.  "Your  counsel  is  good." 

As  the  old  henchman  withdrew  Bess,  under 
her  breath,  mockingly  repeated  her  young  mis 
tress'  words,  "You  can  depend  on  me,  Simon!" 

Breakfast  eaten,  Lady  Beatrice  drew  on  her 
long  gauntlet  gloves,  pearl  colored,  embroid 
ered  in  white,  while  her  deft  hand-maiden  se 
cured  her  green  hat  with  its  long  ostrich 
plumes  by  an  ivory  dart  in  whose  head  was  set 
a  brilliant  emerald  of  great  price.  She  then 
tied  on  her  lady's  mask,  saying  as  she  drew  it 
smoothly  down: 

"If  it  were  not  for  the  roguish  dimple  in 
your  chin,  and  the  prettiest  ear  ever  seen,  that 
"keen-witted"  Frenchman  would  not  be  able  to 
tell  whether  you  were  young  or  old,  and  might 
still  take  you  for  your  mother,  as  he  did  last 
evening." 

Light  as  a  swallow,  Lady  Beatrice  sprang  to 
the  saddle,  and  Simon  handed  her  the  reins. 


82  CONQUERORS  ALL 

One  quick  glance  had  shown  her  the  Count, 
debonair,  smiling,  his  hazel  eyes  brilliant  with 
the  fire  of  admiration,  unobtrusively  observant. 
Jock,  freshly  shaven,  had  assisted  Bess  to  her 
saddle. 

The  Count  then  vaulted  lightly  to  the  back 
of  his  good  roan.  Catching  the  eye  of  Lady 
Beatrice,  he  removed  his  hat  with  its  waving 
plumes,  at  the  same  time  bowing  almost  to  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle. 

The  cavalcade  started  with  Ajax  and  Spit 
fire  taking  the  lead.  It  was  a  glorious  day. 
June  was  sitting  in  the  lap  of  September.  The 
sun  in  mid-heaven  was  resplendently  brilliant. 
The  great  dome  of  blue  was  unflecked  by  a 
cloud;  the  broad  road,  the  trees  rustling,  and 
still  green  in  leafage,  the  sweet,  spicy  odors 
of  grapes,  deep  purple,  white,  ruby  red;  the 
blithesome  songs  of  the  peasants;  their  pictur 
esque  costumes;  the  joyful  laughter  of  children, 
— all  acted  like  wine  on  the  spirits  of  Lady 
Beatrice.  The  air,  clear,  bracing,  intoxicating, 
filled  her  with  gladness.  She  would  have  liked 
to  break  into  song.  Simon's  dark  brown  eyes 
held  an  indulgent  smile  as  he  listened  to  her 
merry  sallies.  Shoulder  to  shoulder,  Ajax  and 
Spitfire  galloped  swiftly,  alert,  proudly  step 
ping,  as  though  in  the  mere  power  of  motion 
they  found  intense  enjoyment. 

To  the  right,  half  hidden,  rose  the  great 
chimneys  of  a  stone  buttressed  chateau.  To  the 
left,  half  covered  with  lichen,  they  saw  still 
another,  where  were  fountains  playing.  Pea- 


ON  THROUGH  TROUBLOUS  PICARDY          83 

cocks  were  flaunting  their  iridescent  tail  feathers 
in  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Farther  on,  a  long 
rambling  manor-house,  dark  red,  ivy  clad,  with 
tall  elms  centuries  old,  forming  two  half-cir 
cles,  their  topmost  branches  arching,  intertwin 
ing,  making  broad  avenues  of  approach.  Beyond 
was  a  park,  half  wild.  In  the  cool  distance  a 
pavilion  could  be  seen  with  a  fountain  playing 
near  it.  Two  deer  were  drinking  from  its 
marble  basin.  Now  startled  by  the  hoof  beats 
they  raised  their  tall  antlers,  looking  with  wide 
open  eyes  as  though  surprised  at  being  dis 
turbed. 

On,  on  rode  the  cavalcade,  the  Count  think 
ing  Lady  Beatrice,  as  she  swayed  gently  in  her 
saddle,  a  goodly  sight  to  see.  Through  the 
long  afternoon  he  had  ridden  behind  her.  Now 
the  sun  was  declining,  the  landscape  growing 
wilder,  the  road  more  rough  and  uneven.  Thus 
far,  Simon  had  kept  close  to  the  side  of  his 
young  mistress.  As  they  dipped  into  a  valley 
between  two  small  hills  and  he  saw  the  way 
they  must  pursue  bore  sharply  to  the  right,  he 
said,  after  listening  intently  to  hoofbeats  com 
ing  from  that  direction : 

"Lady  Beatrice,  I  will  ride  ahead  at  greater 
speed.  Follow,  you,  more  slowly.  It  might 
be  well  to  know  whether  the  horsemen  I  hear 
approaching  be  friend  or  foe." 

This  was  the  opportunity  for  which  the 
Count  had  been  wishing.  As  Simon  pressed 
onward,  the  Count  took  his  place  and,  deferen 
tially  bowing,  said  in  a  clear  baritone: 


84  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"I  trust  you  will  pardon  me,  Mademoiselle, 
if  I  am  in  your  way.  A  word — a  gesture,  and 
I  will  draw  back  my  good  Saladin.  Still,  should 
you  not  object  I,  the  Comte  d'Epernon,  would 
esteem  it  a  great  favor  to  be  allowed  to  act  as 
your  escort  till  your  staunch  protector  returns." 

The  violet  eyes  of  Lady  Beatrice  looked  at 
him  not  unkindly  even  as  she  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  stateliness : 

"I  am  Lady  Beatrice  of  Wotton.  So  you, 
too,  call  your  horse  after  a  denizen  of  the 
desert!  The  Earl,  my  father,  rides  a  roan 
named  for  the  great  chief.  I  have  heard  him 
say  the  pedigree  of  this  noble  animal  could 
be  traced  back  to  the  roan  stallion  given  by 
Saladin  to  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion." 

"Do  you  know,  mademoiselle,  where  your 
father's  horse  came  from?" 

"Yes,  that  do  I,  Comte  d'Epernon.  He  was 
a  present  to  him  from  good  John  of  Burgundy, 
when  but  a  foal.  That  was  four  years  past 
come  Whitsunday.  I  remember  well  when 
Simon,  who  had  gone  to  France  on  service  for 
my  father,  brought  it  to  Wotton  and  with  it 
this  black  palfrey,  Spitfire.  She  is  of  the  same 
stock.  Perchance  you  know  that,  through  my 
mother,  the  Duke  is  related  to  me." 

"No,  Mademoiselle  de  Wotton.  Yet  I 
might  have  known,  since  the  Duchess  de  Berry 
is  your  grand-dame.  It  is  strange,  passing 
strange,  that  we,  who  but  a  few  hours  since 
knew  naught  of  each  other  having  lived  on 
either  side  of  the  channel,  should  be  here  today. 


ON  THROUGH  TROUBLOUS  PICARDY          85 

each  on  a  mount  from  the  stable  of  the  Due  de 
Burgundy!" 

Simon  now  rode  swiftly  into  view,  meeting 
them  at  the  bend  of  the  road. 

"Back,  back,  my  lady!"  he  cried.  "Sir  Count, 
ride  with  her  speedily  to  the  rear.  Bess,  follow 
thy  mistress.  Quick!  what  are  you  gaping  at? 
Do  you  want  to  be  caught  in  the  swirl  of 
battle?  Push  on,  Sir  Count,  and  take  the  road 
to  the  left.  Haste !  haste !" 

Jock,  realizing  that  danger  faced  them,  had 
given  a  low  order  to  the  men  to  reload  their 
pistols  and  loose  their  good  blades,  that  they 
might  be  ready  for  the  strife. 

"Haste  you,  Jock,  with  the  men!  Drop  just 
below  the  brow  of  the  hill,  so  that  when  the 
knaves  come  near  you  can  pick  them  off,  one 
by  one.  Lose  not  a  shot.  Sixteen  of  the  ruf 
fians  of  last  evening,  well-armed,  are  riding 
rapidly,  bent  on  slaughter!  I  will  join  you 
anon." 

Bess  urged  the  gray  genet  with  whip  and  spur. 
They  sped  so  well  that  the  trees  hid  them  from 
sight  before  the  leader  of  the  tattered  crew 
made  around  the  curve.  Fortunately,  the  way 
to  the  road  which  Simon  had  mentioned  was 
short. 

As  Jock  joined  him,  Simon  said: 

"Surely  seven  sturdy  Englishmen  can  beat 
off  two  score  of  such  scum  in  which  it  were  a 
pity  to  sheathe  clean  blades!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY 

"For  courage  mounteth  with  occasion." 

— Shakespeare. 

On  came  the  motley  crowd  of  men  of  all 
nations,  with  loud  cursing  and  shouting,  swords 
brandished  in  air,  riding  up  the  hill  three 
abreast.  A  black-haired  Russian,  with  a  vil 
lainous  red  scar  crossing  forehead  and  cheek, 
rode  in  advance.  Simon's  party  waited  the  on 
rush,  cool  and  alert.  Each  man  with  eyes  keenly 
alive,  sat  firmly  in  his  saddle,  upright,  intrepid, 
fearless,  certain  of  his  aim.  Simon's  hawk  eye 
measured  the  distance.  Father  and  son  were 
an  arrow's  length  ahead  of  the  other  five  men, 
who  formed  a  crescent  with  Andrew  at  one 
end  to  the  rear  and  right  of  Jock,  while  Saul 
held  a  similar  position  near  Simon. 

"Hold  your  fire  till  I  give  the  word,"  cried 
Jock,  his  dark  eyes  gleaming.  "Father  will 
pick  off  the  leader  while  you,  Andrew  and  Saul, 
take  the  first  man  to  the  left  and  right.  I  will 
look  to  the  centre.  Quick  as  you  fire  give  place 
to  Adam  and  Dick :  then  reload !  Steady !" 

Hatchet-faced,  red-eyed,  foul-mouthed,  came 
on  the  Russian  seeming  not  to  heed  the  death 
that  he  courted.  Simon  rode  a  pace  forward  to 
meet  him,  with  sword  drawn  from  sheath,  shim 
mering,  swiftly  darting,  curling  round  and 
86 


WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY  87 

round  with  sibilant  sound,  the  blade  of  his  foe. 
He  was  strong  of  wrist  and  keen  of  eye,  not 
broken  down  with  debauchery  as  was  his  oppon 
ent,  yet  the  moment  his  steel  struck  fire  against 
that  of  the  other,  he  knew  that  the  man's  grip 
was  as  vise-like  as  his  own.  Sharp,  clear,  de 
cisive,  came  three  pistol  shots  at  once.  Three 
saddles  were  emptied.  Wildly  tore  the  rider 
less  horses.  Feeling  no  longer  the  hand  on  the 
rein,  they  wheeled,  riding  pell-mell  against  the 
cut-throats  who,  with  spurs  and  oaths,  were 
striving  to  press  forward.  The  mad  gallop  of 
the  terror-stricken  beasts  separated  them  like 
chaff. 

In  the  setting  sun  the  two  swords,  wielded 
so  skilfully,  first  in  guard,  then  in  fence,  in 
thrust  and  parry,  emitted  coruscations.  Twice 
Simon  tried  unsuccessfully,  through  feint,  to 
carry  out  the  trick  of  fence  which  had  sent  the 
Count's  sword  from  his  hand.  At  last  Ajax 
seemed  to  think  it  time  for  him  to  take  part  in 
the  fray  and,  with  mouth  wide  open,  eyes  dis 
tended,  savage,  terrible,  rearing  huge  and  aveng 
ing,  he  came  crashing  down  on  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  the  Russian's  horse,  toppling  him 
over.  With  a  groan  the  Russian  expired.  As 
though  in  retaliation,  four  of  his  companions, 
with  reckless  speed,  swords  flashing,  rode 
straight  at  Simon.  One  made  a  lunge  at  the 
noble  bay,  another  at  the  heart  of  its  owner. 
Still  a  third  with  a  quick  movement  rode  to 
his  left,  thrusting  his  long  sharp  pointed  sword 
at  Simon's  right  arm,  the  one  which,  if  it  had 


88  CONQUERORS  ALL 

not  been  for  the  gallant  horse  he  bestrode, 
would  surely  have  slain  the  Russian. 

Ping!  whistled  a  bullet  from  Jock's  pistol, 
and  before  the  sword  could  more  than  graze 
Simon's  sleeve,  the  man  fell  from  his  saddle 
writhing,  screaming  out  curses.  Andrew,  quick 
to  think  and  to  act,  knocked  up  the  sword  of 
the  one  who  was  vainly  striving  to  let  out  the 
life  blood  of  the  wildly  plunging  Ajax.  Then, 
with  a  dexterous  turn,  before  the  ragamuffin 
could  ward  off  the  blow,  he  spit  him,  bending 
him  backward  until,  with  eyeballs  staring  he, 
too,  fell  from  his  horse.  Dick  and  Adam,  fol 
lowing  out  their  young  leader's  command,  fired, 
each  bringing  his  man  to  the  ground.  It  was 
Nathan  who  winged  the  fourth,  rendering  his 
sword  arm  useless,  while  Simon,  warding  off 
the  lunge  at  his  heart,  fiercely  thrust,  piercing 
the  rest  of  the  ruffianly  crew,  wheeled  about, 
leaving  their  dead  and  dying  without  one  back 
ward  glance.  Dashing  the  rowels  of  their  spurs 
into  their  horses'  flanks,  they  endeavored  to 
make  their  escape.  Jock  and  the  others  would 
have  given  chase  had  not  Simon  cried,  as  he 
made  a  gesture  to  stay  the  pursuit: 

"No,  lads ;  check  your  ardor.  You  have  done 
well !  Spoil  it  not  through  rashness.  Remem 
ber  Lady  Beatrice !" 

Then,  seeing  that  Jock  reeled  somewhat  un 
steadily  in  his  saddle,  he  exclaimed  anxiously : 

"You  are  hurt,  my  lad!" 

Quickly  dismounting,  he  went  to  the  side  of 
the  gray  stallion  saying,  as  he  handed  up  a 


WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY  89 

leathern  flask;  "Take  a  pull  of  this,  my  son;  't 
will  give  you  heart!" 

The  faintness,  which  for  a  moment  had 
partly  mastered  Jock,  passed  away  as  he  felt 
the  warm  liquid  flow  down  his  throat,  and  with 
a  half-shamed  glance  he  said  to  his  father: 

"You  must  not  think  me  weak!  From  the 
first  of  the  melee,  I  think  there  has  been  a  bul 
let  lodged  in  my  left  shoulder.  But  not  till  you 
called  a  halt  did  I  realize  how  much  blood  I 
had  lost." 

"Get  down,  lad.  Let  me  help  you.  We  must 
look  to  the  dressing  of  your  wound  before  we 
go  farther." 

With  unexpected  gentleness,  Simon  laid  bare 
Jock's  shoulder.  Saul  ran  to  a  brook  in  the 
field  beyond,  filled  his  leathern  hat  with  water 
and  came  and  stood  beside  him.  When  the 
blood  had  been  somewhat  staunched,  Simon 
made  a  close  examination,  finding  the  bullet  had 
cut  its  way  from  one  side  to  the  other.  Taking 
from  his  saddle-bag  a  roll  of  old  linen,  lint  and 
ointment,  which  he  always  carried,  he  soon  with 
Saul's  assistance  had  the  wound  dressed.  With 
a  scarf  from  the  same  saddle-bag  he  made  a 
sling  saying,  as  he  carefully  lifted  the  arm  to 
adjust  it: 

"There,  my  lad!  Take  another  pull,  then 
you  will  be  able  to  ride  on.  It  must  be  an  hour 
or  more  since  the  Count  and  Lady  Beatrice 
left  us." 

Adam  and  Dick  had  each  a  flesh  wound 
scarce  worth  the  mentioning,  while  Simon  and 


90  CONQUERORS  ALL 

the  other  three  men  came  off  unscathed.  Once 
more,  with  long  swift  strides,  Simon  leading 
with  Jock  who,  in  spite  of  his  pain  determined 
to  keep  neck  and  neck  his  gray  stallion  with 
Ajax,  they  pressed  rapidly  forward,  their  one 
thought  being  to  join  their  young  mistress. 
Simon,  after  riding  some  distance  on  the  new 
road,  drew  rein  the  better  to  listen.  Not  a 
sound  broke  the  stillness  except  the  low  twitter 
of  birds,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  crackling  of 
twigs  when  some  wild  thing  of  the  woods  step 
ped  upon  them.  There  were  reasons  why  Simon 
thought  it  better  not  to  "halloo!"  With  one 
glance  at  Jock's  pallid  face,  pain-drawn,  and  a 
half  sigh  which  bespoke  in  him  the  father,  he 
struck  his  spurs  lightly  and  again  they  rode  on 
ward.  More  dense  grew  the  foliage,  darker  the 
way.  Day  had  become  night.  The  thick 
branches  shut  out  the  stars.  Sobbing,  as  though 
in  pain,  came  the  wind  between  the  hills,  a  warn 
ing  of  approaching  storm. 

"Ride  faster!"  exclaimed  Simon.  "Spare  not 
the  horses!"  Then,  with  more  gentle  voice, 
"I  am  sorry  for  you,  lad.  Is  the  pain  great?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  cried 
again;  "Faster!  Faster!" 

Simon  silently  questioned  where  Lady  Bea 
trice  might  be?  Surely  he  had  not  mistaken 
the  Count.  He  was  a  man  of  honor.  Simon's 
responsibilities  weighed  on  him  as  though  a 
mountain  were  on  his  back.  Then  there  was  his 
son  suffering  uncomplainingly.  How  long  could 
he  hold  out?  The  jar  and  motion,  he  knew, 


WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY  91 

were  racking  Jock  with  pain  almost  more  than 
mortal  could  bear.  Was  that  a  groan  he  heard, 
low,  muffled,  or  had  his  ears  deceived  him? 
Would  they  never  overtake  his  young  lady? 
Yes,  this  time,  though  stifled,  he  could  not  mis 
take  the  sound.  With  a  sudden  movement, 
Simon  brought  Ajax  to  his  haunches.  Without 
a  word  he  handed  the  leathern  flask  to  Jock, 
who  as  silently  took  it.  Once  more  the  warm 
fluid  seemed  to  revive  him.  Without  speaking, 
father  and  son  leading,  riding  swiftly  as  horses 
could  bear  them,  they  again  swept  on. 

Thus  they  rode,  the  wind  growing  more  chill, 
their  horses  flagging,  until  at  last  Jock  exclaimed 
in  husky  tones : 

"Listen,  father;  if  I  mistake  not,  I  heard  a 
low  halloo  to  the  right!" 

"So  thought  I,  lad.  I  will  venture  an  an 
swer." 

Clear,  shrill,  insistent,  thrice  repeated,  rang 
out  the  cry  of  the  owl. 

"To-whoo,  to-whoo,"  came  a  response.  Si 
mon's  face  lighted  with  pleasure  as  he  said, 
turning  to  Jock: 

"You  were  right,  lad.  That  was  Lady  Bea 
trice.  I  marked  well  the  quaver;  did  you  not, 
when  first  she  tried?  Let  us  haste.  Take 
another  pull,  lad;  't  will  keep  the  chill  from  your 
bones." 

A  half  league  farther,  where  a  cross-road 
intersected  their  own,  they  found  Lady  Beatrice, 
the  Count  and  Bess,  awaiting  them. 


92  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"You  gave  us  a  wild  chase,  my  lady.  Yet  it 
were  well  for  you  to  push  forward." 

"Yes,  Simon,  so  said  the  Count.  Not  hear 
ing  you,  I  grew  anxious  and,  to  soothe  my  fears, 
the  Count  hallooed.  Didn't  you  hear  him?" 

"Yes,  my  lady,  and  also  you.  But  let  us 
onward !  A  storm  is  arising,  a  severe  one,  to 
judge  by  the  wind  and  many  a  sign  I  wot  of. 
Perchance  you,  Sir  Count,  can  tell  us  of  a  shelter 
near  by?  Where  does  this  path  lead?" 

"Straight  to  Abbeville  town,"  replied  the 
Count,  "which  is  scarce  a  league  away.  I  should 
have  advised  Lady  Beatrice  continuing  to  The 
Crown  had  I  not  feared  that  in  the  darkness, 
made  greater  by  the  storm  almost  upon  us,  you 
would  have  passed  this  wood  road  which  is  but 
a  bridle-path  at  best.  But  by  taking  it  we  save 
a  longer  ride." 

"Then  make  haste,  Sir  Count,  make  haste! 
Lead  the  way  that  we  may  follow.  My  lad 
is  sore  spent  with  a  wound  in  his  shoulder.  Had 
he  not  good  grit  he  would  long  ago  have  fallen 
out." 

"No,  father,  not  I !  Yet,  for  my  lady's  sake, 
it  were  well  to  hurry.  Here  the  trees  shelter  us, 
but,  to  judge  by  the  sound,  the  rain  already 
patters  down." 

Their  horses  entered  with  renewed  spirit  the 
narrow  defile  down  whose  vista  the  riders  could 
not  see.  The  Count  rode  fearlessly  forward 
with  Lady  Beatrice,  undaunted  by  the  gloom, 
just  behind  him.  Then  came  Simon  with  sword 
unsheathed,  followed  by  Bess,  trembling  and 


WELL  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  COUNTRY  93 

quaking.  As  Jock  wheeled  his  horse  near  her, 
she  did  not  forget  to  say : 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  lad!"  which  gave  him 
new  strength  and  courage. 

On  reaching  the  main  road  they  found  the 
rain  steadily  falling  and  by  the  time  they  arrived 
at  The  Crown  all,  except  the  Count  were  de 
pressed.  His  thoughts  brushed  aside  all  dis 
comfiture  as  easily  as  one  would  flick  a  speck 
of  dust  from  his  coat.  No  ill  effects  were 
experienced  from  their  wetting.  Dry  clothing, 
a  hot  supper  and  a  comfortable  night's  rest 
refreshed  them.  When  Simon  knocked  at  the 
door,  as  it  seemed  to  Lady  Beatrice  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  night,  she  made  no  demur  at  rising, 
nor  objected  to  a  hearty  breakfast  by  candle 
light. 

Once  more  they  took  to  the  saddle.  Simon's 
hasty  departure,  when  dawn  was  just  breaking, 
was  a  surprise  to  his  young  mistress.  As  they 
rode  along  inj  the  cool  of  the  morning,  he 
explained  that  large  troops  of  French  horse  were 
constantly  passing  and  repassing, — at  least,  so 
had  said  the  host  of  The  Crown. 

"Therefore,  my  lady,"  explained  Simon  as 
he  touched  spur  to  Ajax,  "you  see  it  behooves 
us  to  be  early  on  the  road,  for  we  are  well  in 
the  enemy's  country  and  before  night  falls  'tis 
my  intention  to  have  you  in  the  care  of  your 
grand-dame." 


CHAPTER  X. 
A  DANGER  AVERTED 

"Then  in  despite  of  broad-eyed  watchful  day, 
I  would  into  thy  bosom  pour  my  thoughts ; 
But  ah,  I  will  not: — yet  I  love  thee  well." 

— King  John. 

The  rain  of  the  night  before  had  laid  the 
dust.  The  thick  foliage  of  the  outspreading 
branches  swayed  by  the  gentle  breeze,  shook 
great  pearly  drops  upon  the  little  party. 

There  was  a  dampness  and  chilliness  in  the 
air.  The  mist  that  came  up  from  the  river  hung 
above  them  as  they  rode  through  the  silent 
deserted  streets  of  Abbeville.  The  trees  took 
on  fantastic  shapes  and  the  houses,  with  their 
closely  shuttered  windows,  appeared  like  a  de 
serted  city. 

Leaving  the  town,  they  bore  away  from  the 
river.  Simon  sent  Andrew  and  Saul  ahead, 
bidding  them  keep  close  watch.  He  was  fearful 
that  at  some  cross-road  they  might  meet  those 
who  would  bar  their  progress.  It  was  not  long 
before  they  looked  to  Lady  Beatrice  like  a  dark 
smutch  on  a  grayish  background.  Even  while 
she  still  heard  the  soft  beat  of  their  horses' 
hoofs,  they  were  lost  in  the  fog. 

"How  is  it,  Simon,"  inquired  his  young  mis 
tress,  "that  Jock  was  not  at  table  ?    I  trust  you 
did  not  have  to  leave  him  at  The  Crown?" 
94 


A  DANGER  AVERTED  95 

"No,  my  lady,  the  lad  rides  with  us.  He  had 
no  stomach  for  food.  Had  I  not  been  afraid 
he  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  French,  I 
would  not  have  listened  to  his  leaving  his  bed. 
But  he  ever  was  a  stubborn  lad,  and  if  he  will 
dance  he  must  pay  the  piper.  God  wot  whether 
or  no  he  will  be  able  to  keep  his  saddle  until 
we  reach  Agincourt." 

"Why  such  haste,  Simon?  When  we  arrive 
at  Crecy,  if  he  be  not  able  to  ride,  we  will 
tarry." 

"You  have  a  kind  heart,  Lady  Beatrice,  but 
that  must  not  be.  He  would  find  the  road  hard, 
even  though  it  were  straight  as  the  crow  flies. 
If  we  turn  here  and  there  out  of  our  course, 
as  we  have  done  thus  far,  I  doubt  not  but  that 
the  best  of  us  will  gladly  leave  our  saddles 
before  Agincourt  is  in  sight." 

Turning  to  the  Count,  Simon  asked  with 
reluctance : 

"Perchance,  Sir  Count,  you  will  ride  with 
Lady  Beatrice,  while  I  turn  back  to  see  how 
fares  my  lad.  He  was  not  fit  to  take  the  road, 
but  if  aught  happens  he  can  blame  himself  for 
being  so  pig-headed." 

"Simon,"  chided  Lady  Beatrice,  "how  can 
you  talk  so?  Did  you  not  say  there  was  need 
for  him  to  come?" 

"Need,  my  lady?  There  be  always  need 
when  young  folks  be  daft  about  a  lass,  and 
bound  willy-nilly  to  have  their  own  way!  Sir 
Count,  keep  a  sharp  lookout.  I  will  not  trouble 
you  long." 


96  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Though  they  could  not  see  Simon's  expres 
sion,  they  heard  his  grim  chuckle  as  he  turned 
Ajax  to  join  Jock. 

"You  must  know,  Mademoiselle  de  Wotton," 
said  the  Count,  as  Saladin  took  the  place  of  the 
bay,  "that  since  catching  a  glimpse  of  you  by 
the  firelight  glow  at  the  inn,  after  your  escape 
from  the  robbers,  it  hath  been  my  fondest  hope 
to  wear  your  colors,  that  through  some  brave 
deed  I  might  prove  my  fidelity!" 

A  merry  laugh  from  Lady  Beatrice  was 
quickly  checked.  To  make  amends  for  her 
rudeness  she  said  demurely: 

"The  Comte  d'Epernon  must  pardon  me.  I 
am  not  used  to  courtiers  nor  the  ways  of  French 
men.  I  thought  at  first  your  flowery  speech  was 
an  effort  to  practice  compliments  on  a  country 
maid.  The  expression  of  your  eyes  seen  through 
the  mist,  quickly  showed  me  my  mistake.  They 
spoke  to  me  of  pity — or  shall  I  say,  kindness, 
that  would  assure  me  protection  if  aught  were 
to  happen  to  good  Simon.  Though  I  appre 
ciate  your  intentions,  I  trust  there  will  arise  no 
need  for  the  service  of  any  but  my  old  hench 
man  and  the  stout  lads  who  have  accompanied 
me  from  Wotton.  Still,  Comte  d'Epernon,  I 
sincerely  thank  you." 

As  the  Count  was  about  to  reply  Simon,  who 
had  been  absent  only  long  enough  to  give  Jock 
a  pull  from  his  flask  and  to  caution  Adam,  in 
case  of  an  alarm,  to  take  the  gray  stallion  by  the 
bit,  that  he  might  lead  him  out  of  harm's  way — 


A  DANGER  AVERTED  97 

now  rode  up  to  his  young  lady,  saying  as  he 
drew  rein  near  her: 

"When  you  hear  the  note  of  the  hermit 
thrush,  my  lady,  hasten.  Until  I  repeat  it  make 
your  pace  slowly.  I  like  not  this  river  fog." 

As  Simon,  not  trusting  altogether  to  Andrew 
and  Saul,  sped  swiftly  forward,  she  heard  the 
thud  of  Ajax's  feet,  first  clear,  then  muffled. 
Before  the  Count  could  speak  further,  Lady 
Beatrice  asked: 

"Do  you  think  with  Simon  that  we  may  meet 
with  troops  of  French  horse?" 

"I  know  not  what  to  say,  mademoiselle. 
While  at  The  Crown  I  heard  that  only  the  day 
before  my  troop  from  d'Epernon  had  passed 
through  Abbeville.  Methinks,  had  they  but 
known  that  I  were  to  be  in  the  town  twenty-four 
hours  later,  they  would  have  waited." 

Through  the  gray  light  the  Count  caught  the 
mischievous  expression  in  the  eyes  of  Lady  Bea 
trice,  as  she  said,  the  dimples  deepening  in  the 
corners  of  her  mouth : 

"It  is  no  wonder  you  were  grave  at  table.  I 
thought  you  looked  sad !  No  doubt  you  were 
thinking  how  different  would  have  been  your 
case  had  you  arrived  at  The  Crown  a  day  ear 
lier.  Then  you  would  have  forsworn  the  dull 
company  of  today!" 

At  that  moment,  twice  repeated,  they  heard 
soft  and  clear,  like  a  sweet  trill  of  promise, 
Simon's  signal. 

They  had  not  noticed  how  thin  the  mist  had 
grown.  As  Lady  Beatrice  rode  swiftly  forward, 


98  CONQUERORS  ALL 

the  Count  caught  the  gleam  of  her  sunny  hair 
beneath  her  dark  green  hat.  As  Spitfire  shot 
ahead,  she  called  back: 

"A gallop,  a  gallop!" 

He  responded  quickly  to  her  laughing  chal 
lenge  by  touch  of  spur  to  Saladin's  flank;  but  so 
swift  was  Spitfire's  pace  that  before  he  could 
overtake  her,  Lady  Beatrice  had  reached  Ajax, 
who  was  waiting  in  the  road,  riderless. 

The  sun,  having  absorbed  the  mist,  was  now 
shedding  through  the  overhanging  branches  its 
brilliant  rays  upon  a  picture  which,  to  the 
Count's  artistic  temperament,  seemed  perfec 
tion.  To  the  left,  half  covered  with  water, 
stretched  away  a  long  vista  of  marsh  land 
fringed  with  drooping  willows ;  to  the  right  were 
tall  poplars,  thickly  set  like  sentinels,  with  here 
and  there  a  wide-spreading  beech  flecked  with 
sunlight.  Ahead,  forming  the  perspective,  was 
an  ascent,  gently  curving.  There  the  trees  were 
thickly  festooned  with  vine  and  flowering  honey 
suckle;  this  flaunted  its  sweet-scented  yellow 
blossoms  like  embroidery  of  gold  against  the 
purple  of  the  grapes  and  the  green  of  the  fol 
iage.  In  the  foreground  were  the  two  noble 
horses,  their  necks  proudly  arching,  noses  rub 
bing,  as  though  whispering  secrets  which  no 
other  might  hear.  And  there,  in  her  well  fit 
ting  habit  of  green,  resplendent  with  youth  and 
beauty,  sat  Lady  Beatrice  on  her  black  palfrey. 
A  deep  frill  of  fine  lace  encircled  her  white 
throat,  softly  rounded.  Her  red  lips  were  smil 
ing,  her  dimples  playing  hide  and  seek,  while 


A  DANGER  AVERTED  99 

from  beneath  her  dark  lashes  looked  forth  with 
innocent  gaiety,  her  violet  eyes.  Gently  shad 
ing  the  exquisite  loveliness  of  complexion  and 
great  masses  of  golden  hair,  was  a  green  velvet 
hat  with  long  floating  plumes.  One  might  have 
thought  her  a  Diana :  yes,  better,  for  Lady  Bea 
trice  was  God's  promise  of  a  womanly  woman  I 

As  the  Count  checked  Saladin  to  admire  the 
young  girl  from  the  vantage  ground  of  one 
who  looks  at  a  beautiful  picture,  their. eyes  met. 
His  spoke  not  only  admiration,  but  love.  She, 
catching  the  glance,  knew  that  a  great  thrill  of 
happiness  was  hers.  Simon,  before  the  Count 
could  put  into  words  the  thoughts  standing  tip 
toe  on  the  threshold  of  expression,  came  round 
the  curve.  Seeing  them  waiting,  he  exclaimed 
heartily: 

"All  is  safe,  my  lady!    All  is  safe!" 

As  Simon  vaulted  into  the  saddle,  he  inquired 
cheerily : 

"Did  you  wonder  where  I  was?" 

"Yes,  Simon,  for  a  moment.  Yet  I  thought 
you  could  not  be  far.  Where  are  Andrew  and 
Saul?" 

"By  this  time,  my  lady,  they  should  be  two 
leagues  farther  on.  I  found  them  just  beyond 
the  curve  waiting  at  a  cross-road  not  knowing 
whether  to  continue  straight  ahead  or  no.  So 
far,  they  have  espied  no  one,  not  even  a  peasant. 
One  half  this  France  is  marsh  and  one-fourth  of 
the  remainder,  though  it  be  pleasant  enough  to 
look  upon,  is  not  much  like  England !" 

"Are  you  not  hard  in  your  judgment,  Simon? 


100  CONQUERORS  ALL 

I  think  it  a  beautiful  country.  Still,  one  might 
prefer  England." 

The  Count,  much  to  his  annoyance,  had  been 
obliged  to  surrender  his  place  to  Simon,  who 
rode  with  his  young  lady  until  they  reached  the 
outskirts  of  Crecy.  At  her  suggestion,  they  did 
not  enter  the  town,  but  once  more  rested  for 
luncheon  in  a  sylvan  glade,  beneath  the  leafy 
shade  of  a  beech.  This  time  Bess  waited  on  her 
young  mistress  and  the  Count:  yet  she  found 
time  to  express  fear  for  her  lady's  complexion, 
which  she  felt  sure  would  be  spoiled  by  the 
sun  and  the  dust  of  the  road,  for  thus  far  that 
day  Lady  Beatrice  had  worn  no  mask.  When 
they  resumed  their  journey,  Lady  Beatrice  ac 
ceded  to  Bess's  importunities,  although  as  she 
laughingly  declared,  if  she  became  brown  as  a 
berry  it  mattered  not  to  her. 

Bess  kept  Jock  company  during  the  long  hours 
of  the  morning,  and  more  than  once  when  he 
was  obliged  to  rest,  she  waited  with  Adam  and 
by  her  merry  sallies  and  warm  interest  in  Jock's 
welfare  proved  a  better  stimulant  than  the 
liquor  in  his  father's  flask. 

Andrew,  who  had  gone  into  the  town  to  learn 
whether  they  might  with  safety  pass  through 
it,  returned  to  report  that  great  preparations 
were  in  progress  for  a  troop  of  French  horse, 
which  the  host  of  The  Silver  Cross  had  told 
him  was  expected  any  moment.  This  informa 
tion  changed  Simon's  plans.  He  dared  not 
remain  where  they  were  lest  the  neigh  of  a 
horse  would  disclose  them  to  their  enemies.  He 


A  DANGER  AVERTED  101 

could  not  pass  through  Crecy  for  fear  they 
might  be  detained  by  the  leader  of  this  company, 
who,  Andrew  had  ascertained,  was  the  Due  de 
Burgundy.  The  only  course  left  was  to  make 
a  detour.  This  would  carry  them  out  of  their 
way,  yet,  seeing  no  alternative,  they  rode  smartly 
into  a  wood  road  to  the  right,  not  knowing 
exactly  where  it  led.  Their  horses,  being 
refreshed,  pushed  forward  rapidly  until  late 
afternoon,  when  they  again  began  to  flag. 

They  had  come  out  of  the  wood  road  beyond 
Crecy.  Simon  left  Andrew  and  Saul  at  the 
turn  to  give  warning  in  case  the  Burgundians 
took  the  same  direction.  Night  was  approach 
ing.  As  far  as  the  eye  could  see  no  friendly 
light  gave  them  welcome.  In  vain  Simon  and 
the  Count  asked  themselves  where  they  should 
find  shelter.  Neither  recognized  the  way.  By 
the  evening  star,  which  hung  like  a  pale  jewel 
in  the  sky,  Simon,  as  well  as  the  Count,  knew 
they  must  be  off  the  beaten  track.  Already  the 
mist  from  the  marsh  with  its  poisonous  exhala 
tions  was  enveloping  them,  when  they  heard 
the  rhythmical  thud  of  horses'  feet.  Simon 
called  a  halt.  They  felt  a  safety  in  numbers, 
knowing  by  the  sound  that  there  could  not  be 
many.  At  last  Simon  exclaimed  with  convic 
tion: 

"That  must  be  the  lads!" 

Andrew's  cheerful  whistle  settled  the  ques 
tion.  In  explanation  of  their  long  delay  Andrew 
said  they  had  watched  the  duke  and  his  com 
pany  of  horse  resume  their  journey  by  the  main 


102  CONQUERORS  ALL 

road,  till  they  could  no  longer  see  either  spear 
or  pennant.  Then  they  had  hastened  forward, 
their  horses  being  thoroughly  rested  by  their 
long  halt.  Simon  bade  them  ride  ahead  swiftly 
to  secure  an  abiding-place  for  the  night.  When, 
indistinctly,  their  hoof-beats  were  heard  in  the 
distance,  the  rest  of  the  party  again  rode  on, 
silently,  slowly.  Even  the  most  spirited  of  the 
horses  proceeded  with  drooping  heads,  their 
every  step  marking  the  effort. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  heard  the  soft 
ripple  of  the  river.  Then,  farther  on,  when 
almost  discouraged,  they  saw  looming  through 
the  mist,  a  gigantic  shadow.  This  they  had 
scarcely  caught  sight  of  when  a  shrill  whistle, 
twice  repeated,  told  them  that  Andrew  and  Saul 
had  met  with  success.  The  latter  rejoined  them, 
exclaiming  gladly: 

"We  have  found,  scarce  a  half  league  from 
here,  not  an  inn,  but  a  castle." 

"Who  knows,"  cried  Lady  Beatrice  joyfully, 
"perchance  there  I'll  find  my  grand-dame!" 

The  horses  rallied,  seeming  to  realize  the 
renewed  hope  of  their  riders.  It  may  be  that 
instinct  told  them  they  were  soon  to  have  food 
and  rest.  Without  whip  or  spur  they  hastened 
forward  till  checked  by  a  draw-bridge  and  broad 
deep  moat 

Beneath  the  silvery  sheen  of  the  moon,  which 
just  then  broke  through  the  clouds,  the  Count 
recognized,  high-towering,  well  fortressed,  the 
Castle  of  AgincourtI 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  STORM 

"Strong  reasons  make  strong  actions." 
— King  John. 

"Annette,  Annette  1"  called  Madame  Moreau. 
"Where  have  you  hid  yourself,  girl?  Annette! 
Ah,  you  are  here.  Where  have  you  been?  The 
Earl  and  his  men  rode  away  two  hours  ago." 

The  rosy-cheeked  peasant  was  not  as  suc 
cessful  as  her  mistress  in  hiding  the  traces  of 
tears.  Sorrow  comes  alike  to  high  and  low 
degree.  Annette  was  a  child  of  nature.  The 
red-haired,  blue-eyed  Scotchman,  Sandy  Mc- 
Pherson,  in  spite  of  his  ungainliness,  had 
touched  her  heart. 

"Madame  must  forgive  me,"  she  said,  fur 
tively  wiping  her  eyes  on  a  corner  of  her  clean 
white  apron.  "Had  I  known  you  needed  me,  I 
would  have  come  at  once." 

"It  is  no  matter,  child,"  replied  her  mistress, 
whose  tender  heart  sympathized  with  the  evi 
dent  sorrow  of  her  pretty  waiting-maid.  "I  did 
but  wish  for  a  ribbon  which  I  have  found.  Now 
I  am  ready  for  my  breakfast." 

As  Madame  Moreau  daintily  sipped  a  warm 
drink,  rich  with  clotted  cream,  she  asked,  toying 
with  a  flaky  roll: 

103 


104  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"What  has  made  you  cry,  ma  bonne  fillet  Are 
you  not  happy  with  me?" 

"Oh,  maiment,  Madame  Moreau!"  cried  the 
little  handmaiden  quickly.  "I  am  most  happy. 
No  girl  ever  had  such  a  good  mistress  as  An 
nette!" 

Then  she  added  naievly,  half  smiling,  half 
sighing: 

"You  see,  Madame,  I  am  but  a  peasant,  and 
when  he  did  swear  that  I  was  as  'bonny  as  any 
lass  in  his  ain  country,'  and  did  kiss  my  cheek, 
saying  at  parting,  'Don't  forget  me :  I  shall 
come  back  to  take  you  for  my  little  sweetheart,' 
the  tears  did  make  my  eyes  full.  Do  you  think 
he  meant  it,  Madame?  Sandy  did  speak  the 
French  most  beautiful,  Madame!" 

Words  came  tardily  to  her  young  mistress, 
for  tears  were  perilously  near  the  surface.  But 
when  Madame  Moreau  saw  the  anxious  expres 
sion  which  had  crept  into  Annette's  eyes,  she 
said  with  softened  gaiety: 

"Who  knows,  mon  enfantl  Not  I.  It  is 
always  better  to  let  them  love  you  till  the  wed 
ding  ring  is  on  your  finger,  but  to  keep  your 
heart  whole  till  such  time  as  you  are  no  longer  a 
maid.  Never  forget  lest  deeper  sorrow  come ! 
Love  is  a  precious  thing,  not  to  be  given  to  the 
first  who  asks,  nor  the  second,  but  must  be 
kept  sacred,  deep  hidden  till  you  are  sure  that 
what  you  deem  love  be  in  truth,  love." 

She  had  forgotten  to  whom  she  was  speaking; 
forgotten  even  her  surroundings  and  was  liv- 


THE  STORM  105 

ing  in  a  paradise  of  her  own  building;  but  even 
there  the  serpent  now  reared  its  head. 

"But,  madame,"  queried  Annette,  her  dark 
brown  eyes  opening  wide  with  surprise,  "he 
said  he  would  come.  May  I  show  you  the  token 
he  has  given  me?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Madame  Moreau  as  she 
drew  away  from  the  table :  "but  I  think  I  can 
guess.  Was  it  not  a  half  shilling  of  English 
money,  silver  at  that?  And  did  he  not  bore  a 
hole  in  it,  putting  it  on  a  string  for  you  to 
wear  round  your  neck?" 

Her  mistress's  merry  glance  which,  like  the 
sunshine  of  an  April  day,  had  absorbed  the 
oncoming  shower,  caught  the  uncanny  fear 
which  made  the  soft  brown  eyes  almost  black, 
the  slight  withdrawal  as  though  from  some 
thing  supernatural,  the  little  shiver  as,  with  lips 
trembling,  color  fading,  Annette  cried: 

"Why,  madame,  did  you  see  him  give  it  to 
me?  But  no,  you  were  here !  Sandy  did  make 
the  hole  and  put  in  the  pink  ribbon  in  the  shed 
yonder." 

"And  tied  it  round  your  neck  himself,  did  he 
not,  Annette?" 

"Yes,  madame,  but  how  could  you  know 
that?  Pardon,  madame,  but  can  you  see  what 
goes  on  in  the  shed  while  you  are  in  the  inn?" 

Madame  Moreau,  who  not  only  enjoyed  the 
surprise  of  her  young  handmaiden,  but  thought 
to  impart,  through  her  superstitious  fears,  a 
belief  in  her  own  watchful  supervision  which 


106  CONQUERORS  ALL 

should  stand  in  good  stead  to  so  pretty  a  maid, 
answered  her  question  by  asking  another : 

"Have  I  not  told  you  as  it  was,  Annette? 
Did  he  not  kiss  you  both  on  your  lips  and  the 
nape  of  your  neck,  when  you  took  from  his 
clumsy  fingers  the  ribbon,  the  better  to  tie  it?" 

Annette's  quick  wit  suggested  to  her  that  she 
follow  her  mistress's  example;  so  with  many  an 
exclamation  of  delight  she  showed  Madame 
Moreau  the  gold  piece  which  the  Earl  had  given 
her  that  morning,  repeating  his  message. 

"He  was  most  kind,"  said  her  mistress,  a 
faraway  look  coming  into  her  eyes  which  An 
nette  was  quick  to  perceive,  "most  kind." 

Then,  with  a  slight  shake  of  her  head,  as 
though  to  free  herself  from  troublesome 
thoughts,  she  went  to  the  window.  As  she 
looked  at  the  lowering  sky  she  said  anxiously : 

"I  fear,  Annette,  they,  as  well  as  you  and  I, 
will  have  a  stormy  day  for  their  journey." 
Then,  as  if  speaking  to  herself,  "I  am  well 
pleased  that  I  was  here  yesterday.  It  is  so 
seldom  that  I  am  at  The  Silver  Moon." 

"How  soon  does  Madame  start?"  asked  An 
nette,  as  she  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  room. 
"Shall  I  lay  out  Madame's  claret  pelisse,  or 
her  dark  blue?" 

"Neither,  Annette;  today  I  travel  in  a  peas 
ant  garb  like  your  own.  We  will  not  ride  in 
the  coach  but  in  the  cart,  with  the  two  strong 
horses  that  brought  us  here." 

"But  surely,  Madame  Moreau,  we  do  not 


THE  STORM  107 

go  in  this  way  to  Paris,  with  only  Jean  and  Bap- 
tiste!" 

"Yes,  my  good  girl,  with  only  Jean  and  Bap- 
tiste.  By  this  time  the  King  and  Dauphin  are 
at  Rouen,  and  I  have  business  to  transact  at 
Paris  which  brooks  no  delay." 

Madame  Moreau,  as  she  stepped  into  the 
covered  cart,  which,  beside  herself  and  Annette, 
held  bales  of  wool  on  which  both  the  women 
sat,  and  several  large  wicker  baskets  filled  with 
grapes,  looking  like  great  rubies,  amethysts  and 
pearls,  against  their  dark  green  leaves,  appeared 
to  the  full  the  part  that  she  was  playing.  The 
Earl,  had  he  seen  her  then  in  her  wooden  sabots, 
red  kirtle  and  well-fitting  blue  bodice  laced  be 
hind  and  before,  her  full  bishop  sleeves  of 
coarse  white  linen  and  gay  neckerchief;  her  hair 
covered  with  a  square  of  silk  folded  cornerwise, 
as  bright  in  its  coloring  as  the  rest  of  her 
costume,  would  have  taken  her  for  a  beautiful 
peasant,  in  spite  of  certain  crow's  feet  at  the 
corners  of  her  eyes  and  mouth,  and  the  nut- 
brown  color  of  her  complexion.  This  was  not 
the  tan  of  outdoor  exposure,  but  a  dye  or  wash 
which  Annette  had  applied  not  only  to  her  face 
and  neck,  but  to  her  hands  and  arms.  The  deep 
lines  beneath  her  eyes  and  the  little  marks  at 
their  corners  were  intended  to  add  to  her  age, 
and  had  been  deftly  traced  by  herself.  Her 
disguise  was  perfect. 

Jean  and  Baptiste,  in  reality  her  coachman 
and  footman,  wore  now  the  dress  of  the  well- 
to-do  peasant.  Though  not  as  successful  as 


108  CONQUERORS  ALL 

their  mistress  in  conforming  to  the  character 
they  had  assumed,  they  yet  loved  her  too  well 
not  to  endeavor  to  do  their  best  in  carrying  out 
her  wishes.  For  a  short  distance,  a  league  or 
more,  they  took  the  same  road  that  the  Earl 
had  taken  several  hours  before;  then  turned  to 
the  right.  They  continued  their  journey  be 
neath  the  shelter  of  tall  trees  till  noon;  then 
halted,  but  only  for  a  brief  time.  The  wind 
which  blew  in  fitful  gusts  swaying  the  great 
limbs  over  their  heads,  warned  Madame  Mo- 
reau  that  the  storm  she  had  feared  was  likely 
to  break  before  they  could  reach  the  cottage  of 
her  foster-mother,  where  she  intended  taking 
shelter  for  the  night. 

"What  do  you  think,  Jean,"  asked  his  young 
mistress  flicking  from  her  bodice  a  few  crumbs, 
"will  the  storm  be  upon  us  before  dark?" 

"I  fear  by  the  moan  in  the  wind,  my  lady," 
replied  Jean  respectfully,  "that  in  less  than  an 
hour  the  rain  will  fall." 

"Then  drive  the  faster,"  answered  his  mis 
tress,  preparing  to  make  herself  comfortable 
by  having  Annette  put  a  bundle  of  wool  behind 
her  back.  "It  looks  as  though  we  should  get 
a  wetting!" 

"No,  madame,  there's  no  need  of  that.  I  can 
drop  the  leather  curtain  and,  as  to  the  cover  of 
the  cart,  that  is  rain-proof." 

On  they  drove,  the  rising  wind  sounding  at 
times  through  the  leafy  aisles  of  the  forest  like 
a  Titanic  cry  of  distress.  Then,  becoming  more 


THE  STORM  109 

violent,  it  fairly  shrieked  till  Annette,  in  her 
terror,  cried  out: 

"O  Madame,  beg  le  bon  Dieu  to  save  usl" 

The  cart  creaked:  the  horses  strained:  Jean's 
whip  cracked.  But  over  and  above  all  the  storm. 
Thus  far  there  had  been  no  rain  till,  at  last,  with 
a  great  blast  which  seemed  to  shake  the  trees 
to  their  very  foundation,  it  fell  in  blinding 
sheets.  Baptiste  had  drawn  the  leather  curtain 
while  Annette  had  fastened  it,  as  she  thought, 
securely;  but  nothing  could  withstand  the  force 
of  the  wind.  Madame  Moreau  felt  no  terror; 
she  was  fearless.  But  poor  Annette  sobbed  with 
fright. 

At  last,  after  lopping  great  branches,  the 
wind,  not  satisfied  with  its  work  of  destruction, 
its  wailing,  its  screeching,  came  with  such  force 
as  to  fell  one  of  the  monarchs  of  the  forest,  a 
tree  centuries  old.  There  it  lay  quivering  like  a 
live  thing,  its  branches  distended,  impeding  the 
way.  The  horses  backed,  then  reared  and 
plunged,  terrified,  almost  upsetting  the  cart  in 
their  mad  desire  to  escape.  Jean  was  an  expert 
horseman  and  with  reins  tightly  gripped  and 
hands  strong  and  steady,  he  succeeded  in  quiet 
ing  the  maddened  brutes  by  the  very  force  of 
his  dominant  will.  As  to  Baptiste,  had  he  dared, 
he  would  have  sobbed  with  Annette. 

It  was  a  terrific  storm.  The  rain  fell  in  tor 
rents.  The  strange  sounds  of  the  forest  which 
they  now  heard  more  distinctly,  became  alarm 
ing.  Madame  Moreau  said  cheerily  to  An 
nette  : 


110  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Cease  your  crying,  mon  enfant.  Le  bon 
Dieu  careth  for  His  own.  Remember  you  con 
fessed  last  week!" 

"What  shall  we  do,  my  lady?"  asked  Jean  in 
a  lull  of  the  wind. 

"Do?"  queried  Madame  Moreau.  "What 
is  there  that  we  can  do  till  the  storm  abates? 
Then  you  and  Baptiste  can  remove  the  fallen 
tree  from  the  road." 

"That,  my  lady,"  answered  Jean,  "can  be 
done  now,  for  we  have  a  stout  axe.  It  would 
not  be  the  first  time  that  Baptiste  and  I  were 
out  in  the  rain." 

"No,  good  Jean,"  replied  his  mistress.  "It 
is  not  worth  your  while  to  get  wet  to  the  skin 
when  you  can  avoid  it.  We  are  in  the  belt  of 
the  storm.  Do  you  think  the  party  that  stopped 
last  night  at  The  Silver  Moon,  the  Earl  of 
Wotton,  could  have  ridden  beyond  it?  As  may 
hap  you  know,  they  were  bound  for  Harfleur." 

"If  that  be  so,  my  lady,  they  are  catching  it 
now,  for  their  road  takes  them  near  the  gray 
marshes,  a  point  which  they  must  have  reached 
by  this.  There  the  wind  has  full  sweep!" 

Madame  Moreau  had  suffered  too  much  from 
the  lack  of  consideration  and  the  tyranny  of 
others,  not  to  have  in  her  dealings  with  those  in 
a  lower  grade  of  life  than  herself,  a  constant 
care  for  their  comfort.  So  she  again  expressed 
her  willingness  to  wait  and  see  if  the  storm 
would  not  quickly  pass  over. 

Annette,  lacking  discipline,  impulsive,  untried, 
would  gladly,  in  spite  of  the  rain,  have  let  the 


THE  STORM  111 

men  begin  chopping  the  tree  at  once.  Madame 
Moreau  shut  out  her  surroundings  by  taking 
another  peep  at  her  paradise ;  this  time,  to  judge 
by  her  expression,  the  serpent  was  not  there. 
A  pleasant  reverie  is  a  panacea  for  dull  com 
pany;  at  least,  so  it  proved  to  Madame  Moreau. 

Annette,  even  while  she  fingered  the  ribbon 
that  held  the  broken  shilling,  bridled  and  smiled, 
and  for  a  brief  moment  forgot  the  storm,  as  she 
caught  the  love  light  in  the  eyes  of  Baptiste. 

They  had  been  obliged  to  roll  up  the  leather 
curtain  for  the  wind  had  torn  away  its  fasten 
ings.  Their  young  mistress  had  laughingly  de 
clared  that  its  flapping  and  blowing  into  the 
cart  brought  more  discomfort  than  the  rain. 
Three  hours  later,  as  the  sun  was  dropping 
below  the  range  of  hills  to  the  left,  Jean  drew 
up  at  a  vine-covered  cottage  sitting  well  back 
from  the  road. 

Baptiste  assisted  his  lady  to  alight.  Stand 
ing  in  the  doorway  was  the  mother  of  Annette, 
looking  scarce  older,  though  more  buxom,  than 
her  daughter.  She  welcomed  Madame  Moreau 
as  only  a  foster-mother  can,  saying  with  a 
cheery  smile : 

"Would  that  your  mother  were  living  to  see 
you  as  you  are  now  I" 

"Not  so,  good  Rosette,"  replied  Madame 
Moreau  with  a  sad  smile.  "It  is  far  better  as 
it  is." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
PLANS  THWARTED 

"The  spirit  of  the  time  shall  teach  me  speed." 

— Shakespeare. 

Madame  Moreau's  superabundant  vitality 
had  stood  her  in  good  stead.  Although  exposed 
to  the  seventy  of  the  storm,  she  suffered  no  ill 
effects.  On  her  arrival  at  the  woodland  cot 
tage,  her  foster-mother,  with  many  a  shrug  of 
her  fat  shoulders,  insisted  on  her  laying  off  her 
wet  garments,  then  sitting  down  to  an  appetiz 
ing  supper.  She  brought  Madam  Moreau  a 
cup  of  hot  posset,  saying  coaxingly,  as  though 
she  were  still  a  child: 

"Drink,  my  lady.  Le  bon  Dieu  knows  it's 
not  bad." 

Former  experiences  had  taught  Madame 
Moreau  how  the  unsavory  mixture  of  garden 
herbs  and  mulled  wine  tasted,  yet  she  took  it, 
not  because  she  deemed  it  necessary,  but  to 
please  her  old  nurse,  Rosette. 

Her  foster-mother,  rising  early  the  next 
morning,  quickly  tidied  the  sunny  kitchen  and 
prepared  before  the  blazing  fire,  a  breakfast 
for  her  dear  young  mistress.  A  savory  stew 
made  of  dried  peas  was  sending  a  delicious 
fragrance  through  the  room  when  Jean  brought 
in  a  great  goose  which  was  to  be  roasted  for 
them  to  take  on  their  journey.  Baptiste  had  not 
112 


PLANS  THWARTED  113 

been  allowed  to  remain  idle.  Long  before 
Rosette's  oven  was  heated,  she  had  him  taking 
out  the  bales  of  wool  that  had  been  drying 
through  the  night  on  the  great  hearth.  Now  he 
was  busily  employed  gathering  materials  in  the 
garden  for  a  salad.  Twice  already  Rosette  had 
been  out  to  see  that  the  horses  were  properly 
fed,  and  once  to  hasten  Annette  at  her  milking, 
mistrusting  that  she  was  doing  more  talking 
with  Baptiste  than  work.  Rosette  was  an  active 
woman  and  always  contrived  to  keep  others 
busy  as  well  as  herself. 

The  table  was  spread  and  drawn  into  the  sun 
niest  window.  In  the  centre  of  the  fine  white 
cloth,  woven  by  her  own  deft  fingers,  was  an 
earthen  pot  of  mignonette  fragrant  with  bloom. 
She  had  not  forgotten  that  this  was  a  favorite 
flower  of  her  little  Irene  when,  with  toddling 
feet,  she  had  cried: 

"Oh,  les  fleurs  jolies,  les  fleurs  jolies  au  bon 
Dieuf" 

Irene  had  lived  with  her  foster  mother  until 
her  father,  the  Marquis,  had  placed  her  with 
the  good  sisters  at  Vincennes.  There  she  re 
mained  until  she  was  sixteen,  as  ward  of  the 
King.  Her  mother's  duties  as  maid-of-the-robes 
for  Queen  Isabel,  made  it  impossible  for  her 
to  pass  more  than  a  few  hours  at  a  time  with 
her  only  child.  Five  years  after  the  loss  of  his 
wife,  who  had  died  very  suddenly  when  Irene 
was  about  three  years  old,  her  father  had  met 
his  death  while  hunting  with  the  king.  It  was 
called  an  accident,  but  in  the  light  of  later  de- 


114  CONQUERORS  ALL 

velopments  there  were  those  who  believed, 
though  they  scarcely  dared  whisper  it,  that  there 
was  something  suspicious  connected  with  the 
death  of  both  parents. 

Irene's  mother  was  born  in  Seville  and  had 
possessed  the  ardent  sunny  temperament  of  the 
Andalusians.  Her's  had  been  a  love  match. 
Irene  had  inherited  not  only  her  beauty  of  fea 
ture  and  form,  but  her  nobility  of  soul.  The 
Marquis,  after  his  wife's  death,  had  left  Paris, 
living  for  two  years  in  strict  retirement,  near 
Avignon,  his  birthplace.  Then,  on  being  sum 
moned  to  the  king,  Charles  the  Sixth,  he  had 
returned  to  the  hostel  Saint  Pol.  It  was  on  his 
way  thither  that  he  had  taken  Irene  from 
Rosette,  to  confide  her  to  the  good  sisters'  care. 

His  estates  were  large.  The  duke,  who  was 
still  living  at  the  time  of  his  son's  death,  owing 
to  certain  vows  taken  years  before,  had  resigned 
his  immense  wealth,  both  of  lands  and  gold,  to 
his  only  child,  Irene's  father,  and  voluntarily 
became  a  stranger  to  the  country  of  his  birth. 

"Bon  jour,  ma  bonne  Rosette!"  exclaimed 
Madame  Moreau  as,  with  laughing  eyes  she 
tiptoed  into  the  kitchen.  "The  odor  of  break 
fast  drew  me  as  the  sun  after  the  rain  doth 
draw  the  flowers."  Rosette's  full  moon  of  a 
face,  red  with  the  heat  of  the  fire,  glowed  with 
delighted  satisfaction. 

"Thou  seest,  ma  petite,"  said  the  good  soul, 
"I  have  not  forgotten  how  to  cook:  that's  why 
thy  Rosette  is  making  so  many  a  toothsome 


PLANS  THWARTED  115 

pasty.     She  well  knoweth  that  thou  wilt  find 
nothing  fit  to  eat  till  thou  dost  reach  Rouen." 

Breakfast  over,  Jean  drove  up  to  the  door, 
and  Madame  Moreau,  once  more  settling  her 
self  on  the  bales  of  wool,  looked  with  surprise 
at  the  large  stock  of  provisions  which  her  fos 
ter-mother  had  so  generously  provided.  To  her 
mind  there  seemed  sufficient  to  last  even  through 
their  stay  in  Paris. 

On  parting  she  pressed  into  Rosette's  capa 
cious  hand  a  silk  purse  well  filled  with  Louis 
d'ors,  more  money  than  the  good  woman  had 
ever  seen  before  in  her  tranquil  life.  Amid 
voluble  thanks  and  adieux,  the  cart  rolled  away 
from  the  cottage.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly 
and  all  nature,  invigorated  by  the  rain,  had 
taken  on  a  more  vivid  hue  and  a  cleanliness  of 
aspect  very  pleasing  to  the  eye.  It  was  the 
same  day,  though  somewhat  earlier  in  the  morn 
ing,  on  which  Lady  Beatrice  had  ridden  away 
from  The  Three  Crows.  The  warmth  of  sum 
mer  was  in  the  air.  The  roads  which  Madame 
Moreau  felt  obliged  to  travel,  were  not  in  as 
good  condition  as  those  over  which  Lady  Bea 
trice,  riding  so  gaily,  had  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Epernon.  Madame 
Moreau  had  not  chosen  the  highway.  The 
great  wheels  sank  into  deep  hollows  which  had 
been  filled  with  water  but  were  now  thick  with 
mud.  The  rough  and  sodden  state  of  the  road 
prevented  their  advancing  as  rapidly  as  she 
wished.  More  than  once  Jean  and  Baptiste 
were  obliged  to  clear  from  their  way  fallen 


116  CONQUERORS  ALL 

trees  and  large  branches,  the  destructive  work 
of  the  ruthless  wind. 

Madame  Moreau  had  not  thought  it  neces 
sary  to  explain  to  her  foster-mother  that  she 
did  not  intend  stopping  at  Rouen.  Her  great 
est  desire  was  to  avoid  the  Court  party,  as  well 
as  the  French  troops  who  were  massing  in  large 
numbers.  At  noon  their  way  was  impeded  by 
a  brook,  a  broad  shallow  stream  which  one 
might  ordinarily  have  waded  without  wetting 
the  ankles,  but  the  great  fall  of  rain  the  day 
before  had  swollen  it  until,  at  the  point  where 
the  road  crossed,  it  had  become  a  deep  river. 
As  the  horses  attempted  to  ford  it,  one,  slipping 
on  a  smooth  pebble,  stumbled  and  lost  his  foot 
ing.  As  he  fell  floundering  into  the  stream,  a 
piece  of  the  harness  gave  way.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  coolness  of  Madame  Moreau  and 
Jean  the  accident  might  have  proved  disastrous. 
Madame,  catching  Annette  by  the  shoulder, 
pulled  her  without  ceremony  to  her  side  of  the 
cart,  thus  bringing  the  weight  to  that  part  which 
was  tipped  in  the  air.  This,  with  Jean's  prompt 
ness  of  action,  saved  it  from  capsizing.  When 
the  horse  had  regained  his  footing  a  bad  cut 
was  found  on  his  side.  The  harness  had  not 
only  been  broken  by  his  fall,  but  more  seriously 
impaired  through  the  united  efforts  of  Jean  and 
Baptiste  to  release  him  from  his  mate. 

Madame's  forethought  in  having  suggested 
to  Jean  that  they  take  a  large  coil  of  rope  from 
the  cottage,  saved  the  situation,  otherwise  they 
would  have  been  hopelessly  stranded.  The  cart 


PLANS  THWARTED  117 

was  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  Their  mistress 
merrily  declared  that  while  it  contained  herself 
and  Annette  there  was  no  danger  of  being  car 
ried  down  stream.  This  little  adventure,  while 
disarranging  Madame  Moreau's  plans,  clearly 
manifested  the  strength  of  her  sunny  disposi 
tion,  her  presence  of  mind  and  her  resourceful 
ness.  The  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  had 
elapsed  before  they  again  started  on  their  jour 
ney.  Night  fell.  They  progressed  slowly.  The 
stars  came  out,  but  the  trees  met  too  often 
overhead  to  make  their  light  of  service. 
Madame  Moreau,  who  had  not  planned  to  re 
main  out  through  the  night  wondered,  while 
jogging  onward,  what  course  they  had  best 
pursue.  She  had  hoped  to  reach  a  small  inn 
which,  according  to  her  reckoning,  must  even 
then  be  six  leagues  away.  The  horses  were 
worn  out.  Her  tender  heart  would  not  consent 
to  their  being  driven  farther.  On  reaching  an 
open  space  surrounded  by  large  trees,  where  the 
land  was  higher,  she  made  up  her  mind  to  halt 
until  daylight.  When  she  told  Jean  of  her 
intention,  Baptiste  and  Annette  exclaimed  sim 
ultaneously  : 

"Oh,  Madame,  don't!" 

Even  Jean  wondered  if  it  would  not  be  wiser 
for  them  to  push  on  till  they  could  find  a  char 
coal  burner's  hut.  But  Madame  Moreau,  hav 
ing  once  decided  as  she  believed  best,  was  not 
easily  turned. 


CHAPTER  XIII, 
A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 

"Who  hath  read,  or  heard, 
Of  any  kindred  action  like  to  this?" 
— King  John. 

When  the  horses  were  released  from  the 
cart  and  watered,  Jean  tethered  them  within 
the  circle  of  trees,  saying  to  his  mistress : 

"Mayhap  Madame  has  not  thought  of  the 
danger  that  prowls  by  night  through  the  for 
est?" 

"We  will  not  cross  a  bridge,  Jean,  till  we 
come  to  it,"  said  Madame  Moreau  cheerfully. 

Annette,  who  had  been  preparing  supper, 
shivered  at  Jean's  words.  Her  mistress,  as  she 
set  down  the  glass  of  wine  she  was  sipping,  said, 
without  sign  of  fear : 

"We  will  trust  in  le  bon  Dieu.  Jean,  see  to 
it  that  the  ointment  is  applied  to  the  poor  ani 
mal's  ugly  cut,  for  it  must  be  healed." 

Catching  the  sound  of  Annette's  quick  in 
drawn  breath,  she  said  gaily,  "You  will  have  to 
meet  worse  dangers  than  those  of  which  Jean 
speaks.  Eat  your  supper.  It  will  help  to  give 
you  a  stout  heart." 

Getting  down  from  the  cart  Madame  Moreau 
looked  up  to  the  dark  blue  zenith  studded 
thickly  with  stars.  As  she  watched  the  great 

118 


A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE  119 

planet,  Jupiter,  with  its  steady  light,  her  mind 
reverted  to  many  things  connected  with  her 
past.  She  was  aware  before  starting  on  this 
journey  of  the  dangers  that  might  beset  her 
way.  The  wild  things  of  the  wood  were,  to  her, 
not  half  so  much  to  be  feared  as  man.  Sending 
up  a  silent  prayer  for  protection,  she  turned  to 
Jean  saying  cheerfully: 

"Build  a  good  fire  in  the  center  of  the  glade 
and  keep  it  burning;  naught  more  thoroughly 
scares  off  beasts  of  prey." 

Jean  knew  that  owing  to  the  heavy  rain  of 
the  day  before  it  would  be  a  task  to  find  dry 
fuel.  He  was  aware  that  in  a  steady  blaze  lay 
their  only  chance  of  safety.  Already  he  had 
heard  that  which  sent  cold  thrills  running  down 
his  spine.  This  was  no  reflection  upon  his  cour 
age.  The  bravest  of  men  would  rather  stand 
up  against  his  kind  than  face  a  pack  of  hungry 
wolves.  Madame  Moreau  did  not  undervalue 
the  perils  which  the  night  might  bring,  and 
realized  that  every  precaution  should  be  taken. 
She  met  the  thought  of  lurking  foe  with  the 
same  dauntless  courage  that  had  supported  her 
for  the  past  two  years.  The  fire  burned 
brightly.  Near  it  lay  two  large  piles  of  sticks. 
The  bundles  of  wool  were  spread  out  in  the 
bottom  of  the  cart  with  a  blanket  over  them, 
making  a  comfortable  bed.  The  men,  weary 
with  their  day's  labor,  had  thrown  themselves 
upon  the  ground  and  were  now  snoring  loudly. 
Annette,  too,  was  asleep.  All  around  could 
be  heard  the  mysterious  noises  of  the  night — 


120  CONQUERORS  ALL 

those  sounds  so  hard  to  define,  yet  which  speak 
to  us  with  countless  voices  of  the  wondrous 
power  of  God.  Madame  Moreau  sat  on  the 
driver's  seat  lost  in  deep  reverie.  She  was 
reflecting  on  her  past,  her  present,  and  her 
future.  Suddenly  she  was  aroused  by  a  sharp 
neigh  from  one  of  the  horses  and,  before  her 
scattered  thoughts  could  take  in  the  situation, 
both  were  stamping  and  whinnying  piteously. 
Amidst  all  this  din  Annette  and  the  two  men 
slept  on. 

The  moon  had  risen,  making  the  glade  almost 
as  bright  as  day.  Quickly  Madame  Moreau 
jumped  from  the  cart  and,  running  to  where 
Jean  was  lying,  whispered  close  to  his  ear: 

"Jean,  awake!     Awake,  Jean!" 

Catching  up  a  couple  of  large  sticks,  she 
thrust  them  into  the  fire  and  by  the  time  Jean 
was  on  his  feet,  thrust  one,  all  ablaze,  into  his 
hand,  hastened  with  the  other  toward  the 
frightened  horses,  whose  instinct  was  keener 
than  hers.  As  the  light  of  the  torch  flamed 
higher  Jean  rushed  past  her,  crying  out  shrilly: 

"Back,  my  lady,  back!" 

It  was  well.  A  gaunt,  hungry  wolf  had  been 
stealing  up  to  the  horses  and,  catching  sight  of 
the  blazing  brand,  turned  his  attention  to 
Madame  Moreau.  The  united  efforts  of  Jean 
and  Madame  Moreau  intimidated  the  brute, 
and  he  slunk  back  into  the  darkness.  As  Jean's 
young  mistress  turned  to  him,  he  cried  excitedly : 

"The  horses  will  have  to  be  fastened  to  the 
cart.  It  will  not  do  to  leave  them  here,  out  of 


A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE  121 

the  circle  of  light.  Baptiste!  Baptiste!"  he 
called,  but  vainly,  for  both  Baptiste  and  Annette 
were  sound  sleepers. 

Madame  Moreau  did  not  wish  her  hand 
maiden  to  waken.  For  her  own  part  she  would 
have  preferred  that  Baptiste  should  sleep  also, 
thinking  him  full  as  much  a  coward  as  the  maid. 
So  she  said,  reaching  out  for  Jean's  torch: 

"Unfasten  the  near  horse  and  I  will  lead  him 
to  the  cart;  then  follow  with  the  other." 

Before  Jean  could  undo  the  stout  leather 
thong,  their  enemy  returned  and  this  time  was 
not  alone.  Once  more  Madame  Moreau  swung 
her  brightly  lighted  torch  with  such  vigor  that 
the  two  wolves  drew  back,  snapping  and  snarl 
ing.  Jean,  who  at  last  succeeded  in  unbuckling 
the  strap,  nearly  lost  his  footing  as  the  horse, 
fearful  of  the  torch,  reared  and  plunged. 

"It's  no  use,"  said  Madame  Moreau.  "You 
must  leave  me  here  to  protect  the  other  whilst 
you  take  time  to  secure  each  firmly.  Give  no 
thought  to  me;  I  will  care  for  myself." 

Jean  knew  that  when  his  mistress  spoke  in 
that  tone  she  expected  to  be  obeyed.  Holding 
firmly  the  headstall  of  the  horse,  he  hesitated, 
till  she  exclaimed  earnestly: 

"Hurry,  Jean,  hurry!" 

A  sound  in  the  distance  like  the  baying  of 
dogs  warned  him  that  the  whole  pack  was  ap 
proaching.  As  he  passed  Baptiste  he  gave  him 
a  vigorous  kick  in  the  side,  saying,  "Get  up, 
man,  get  up  !"  Baptiste,  rising  partly  to  a  sitting 
posture,  only  grunted :  then,  turning  over  on  his 


122  CONQUERORS  ALL 

other  side  he  began  snoring  again  with  renewed 
zest.  Madame  Moreau  now  held  both  the 
torches.  It  was  evident  the  wolves  did  not 
mean  to  be  balked  of  their  prey.  Quick  as  a 
flash,  as  one  came  too  near,  she  struck  him 
between  the  eyes.  With  a  loud  howl  he  re 
treated.  His  cries  of  pain  only  seemed  to 
make  the  others  more  ferocious.  Turning  from 
the  horse  it  made  straightway  for  the  brave 
woman,  who  was  determined  to  save  the  poor 
animal  at  all  hazards.  The  wolf's  teeth 
gleamed;  the  cruel  eyes  flashed;  its  snarls  be 
came  blood-curling.  Still  Madame  Moreau 
stood  her  ground,  whirling  her  torches  with 
such  rapidity  that  the  light  and  smoke  fairly 
dazzled  her  eyes.  At  that  moment  Jean  joined 
her.  Being  a  skilled  marksman  he  took  good 
aim  and  fired  as  the  brute  once  more  attempted 
to  spring  at  his  mistress.  With  a  shriek,  half 
human,  half  brutish,  white  teeth  gleaming,  and 
eyes  flashing,  the  wolf  sprang  at  the  dauntless 
woman,  but  before  the  savage  creature  could 
reach  her  a  bullet  had  done  its  work.  With  a 
terrific  howl,  the  wolf  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 

"Quick,  Jean!"  cried  his  mistress.  "Quick, 
release  the  other  horse  while  you  have  time. 
Heard  you  not  the  long  loping  steps  of  others? 
Do  not  heed  me.  Attend  to  your  work!" 

A  growl,  a  rasping  sound  of  gritting  teeth, 
made  Madame  Moreau  turn  quickly.  There, 
stealing  upon  her,  with  phosphorescent  eyes 
gleaming  in  the  darkness,  was  a  long  gray  wolf. 
Jean,  who  had  dashed  away  to  do  her  bidding, 


A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE  123 

did  not  know  of  his  mistress's  peril.  She,  think 
ing  more  of  the  dumb  animal's  safety  than  of 
herself,  forbore  to  cry  out.  Thrusting  the  blaz 
ing  brand  with  a  sweep  of  her  left  arm  into  the 
wolf's  very  mouth,  now  widely  opened,  she  at 
the  same  time  swirled  with  great  swiftness  to 
one  side,  thus  escaping  the  long  cruel  fangs. 
The  maddened  brute,  made  more  relentless  by 
his  burning  mouth,  whirled  about  to  renew  the 
attack.  In  her  excitement  Madame  Moreau 
dropped  one  of  the  torches.  The  other  was  but 
a  poor  weapon  to  stand  between  her  and  the 
great  extended  jaws,  sure  of  their  prey.  With 
a  swift  prayer  and  a  courage  unsurpassed,  in 
stead  of  fainting  or  running,  even  while  its  hot 
breath  filled  with  foul  odors  fanned  her  cheek, 
she  carried  the  attack  into  the  enemy's  country. 
As  the  wolf  sprang  toward  her  she  jumped  to 
the  right  yet  nearer  him  than  before,  and  dashed 
with  all  her  force  the  burning  end  of  the  torch 
into  his  blood-shot  eyes.  Ping!  humming,  in 
sistent,  flew  a  messenger  of  death  from  Jean's 
pistol.  The  great  monster  fell,  its  life  blood 
spattering  Madame  Moreau's  hand.  She,  dis 
gusted,  woman-like,  began  to  wipe  it  off  on  the 
skirt  of  her  gown. 

Through  the  whole  Annette  and  Baptiste 
slept  on.  Jean  helped  his  mistress  back  to  the 
driver's  seat  where,  for  a  moment,  she  sat 
trembling,  faint  and  exhausted.  There  was 
little  time  to  give  way.  Jean  awakened  Baptiste, 
threw  more  wood  on  the  fire,  prepared  more 
torches.  Knowing  that  Madame  Moreau  was 


124  CONQUERORS  ALL 

as  good  a  shot  as  himself  he  laid  four  loaded 
pistols  on  the  seat  beside  her,  with  powder  and 
balls,  saying: 

"These  pistols  are  Baptiste's  and  mine.  You, 
I  believe,  Madame,  carry  one  of  your  own.  We 
will  attack  them  by  fire  as  they  draw  near  and 
whenever  you  have  a  chance  for  a  shot,  take  it!" 

There  was  no  thought  in  Jean's  mind  at  that 
moment  that  he  was  Madame  Moreau's  coach 
man.  He  felt  himself  a  man,  her  defender.  As 
for  Baptiste,  Jean  looked  upon  him  as  a 
coward ! 

And  well  he  might.  With  knees  shaking, 
teeth  chattering,  face  blanched  to  the  hue  of 
death,  and  arms  hanging  listlessly  by  his  side — 
surely  Jean's  opinion  was  well  grounded. 
Thrusting  a  lighted  torch  into  Baptiste's  nerve 
less  hand,  Jean  exclaimed  in  a  tense  voice : 

"Take  care  of  yourself !  You  can  at  least  do 
that!" 

Then  with  a  blazing  brand  in  his  left  hand 
and  his  sword,  a  short  stout  blade,  in  his  right, 
Jean  awaited  the  rush  of  the  snarling,  snapping 
pack.  As  one  pushed  his  long  nose  through  the 
tangle  of  brush,  Madame  Moreau  took  aim  and 
fired,  while  Jean,  in  his  excitement  cried  out, 
"Brava !"  He  had  seen  the  wolf  fall. 

On  came  three,  more  venturesome  than  the 
rest,  dashing  into  the  clearing  together.  Once 
more  Madame  Moreau  pressed  the  trigger. 
This  time  her  aim  was  sure,  but  as  she  attempted 
to  lift  the  third  pistol  from  where  it  lay  on  the 
seat,  her  arm  was  caught  from  behind  and 


A  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE  125 

Annette's  terrified  cry,  "Bon  Dieu!"  rang  in  her 
ears.  The  bullet  went  wide  of  its  mark. 

"Down,  Annette,  down!"  cried  her  mistress 
in  tones  the  little  handmaiden  had  never  heard. 
"Don't  dare  touch  my  arm  again.  Don't  dare !" 

She  would  have  set  her  to  work  reloading  but 
knew  that  in  her  present  condition  of  fright  it 
would  be  futile.  It  was  a  fight  for  life  carried 
on  by  a  woman,  scarce  nineteen,  and  by  one 
whom  the  French  call,  the  "canaille."  No 
belted  knight  could  have  shown  greater  heroism 
than  did  Jean,  Madame  Moreau's  coachman. 
As  for  Baptiste,  long  before  the  struggle  was 
over,  he  had  crawled  into  the  cart  with  Annette ! 


CHAPTER   XIV. 
THE  CHATEAU  DES  CLERES 

"I  would  I  knew  his  mind." 

They  arrived  at  Yvetot,  after  their  terrible 
night's  experience  with  the  wolves,  about  seven 
in  the  morning.  Here  they  exchanged  horses. 
It  was  late  in  the  forenoon  before  they  were 
able  to  set  out  for  a  small  hamlet  five  leagues 
farther  on.  While  travelling  Madame  Moreau 
and  Annette  slept  on  the  bales  of  wool;  the 
sudden  stopping  of  the  cart  aroused  them. 

That  night  at  the  humble  inn,  Jean's  mis 
tress  was  glad  to  retire  early,  awakening  the 
next  morning  refreshed.  She  knew  it  was  essen 
tial  to  push  forward  as  rapidly  as  possible  to 
meet  her  appointment  at  Cleres.  When  in  the 
distance  she  saw  the  Chateau  where  lived  the 
Countess,  her  friend,  she  turned  to  Jean,  saying 
with  a  weary  sigh : 

"You  and  Baptiste  will  put  up  at  Madame 
Loudre's.  At  nine  this  evening,  inquire  at  the 
Park  gate  for  Madame  Moreau.  Be  sure  you 
are  punctual !  I  will  be  there.  As  for  you, 
Baptiste,  be  cautious  and  say  naught  about  your 
mistress.  Now,  Jean,  check  the  horses  beneath 
the  shade  of  this  tree  that  I  and  Annette  may 
walk  to  the  lodge." 

126 


THE  CHATEAU  DBS  CLERES  127 

It  was  her  intention,  if  the  agent  whom  she 
expected  from  Paris  was  awaiting  her,  to  con 
tinue  on  the  next  morning  to  Petit  Audelys, 
there  to  remain  a  few  weeks  with  friends.  If 
the  agent  did  not  come,  as  agreed  upon,  she  felt 
it  would  be  necessary  to  extend  her  journey  so 
as  to  consult  with  her  father's  former  friend, 
Juvenal  des  Ursins.  It  had  been  over  a  year 
since,  in  her  great  trouble,  he  had  advised  her 
to  leave  the  Court  and  keep  in  hiding  until 
times  were  more  settled  in  France. 

Madame  Moreau  and  Annette  having 
knocked  loudly  at  a  small  postern  door  near  the 
lodge-keeper's  cottage  at  the  Chateau  of  Cleres, 
were  impatiently  waiting  to  be  let  in.  The  grill 
opened  and  Jacques,  a  trusty  attendant,  in 
quired: 

"What  is  wanted?"          , 
Madame  Moreau  answered  in  a  low  tone : 

"Jacques,  I  am  your  mistress's  friend. 
'Amour  des  deux.'  " 

With  a  rattling  of  bolts  and  a  jangling  of 
keys,  the  door  flew  open.  A  broad  smile  over 
spread  Jacques'  face  as  he  exclaimed: 

"Bienvenue,  Madame!     Entrez  done!" 

When  the  gate  fell  to  behind  Annette,  he 
turned  to  re-lock  the  door,  saying  respectfully: 
"If  Madame  will  wait,  I  will  conduct  her  to  the 
Chateau." 

"No  need,  Jacques,"  replied  Madame  Mor 
eau,  "I  know  the  way.  Is  your  mistress  alone?" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  replied  Jacques,  still  fum 
bling  with  the  keys.  "She  is  sick  and  lonely, 


128  CONQUERORS  ALL 

as  usual.  Madame  will  meet  with  no  one  if 
she  enters  by  the  stone  stairway, — but  here  is 
Lizette.  I  will  send  her  to  unfasten  the  baize 
door  if  it  should  hap  to  be  locked.  Lizette! 
Lizette !" 

"Coming,  grandpere,  coming!"  cried  a  fair 
child  of  ten,  running  toward  them. 

"Hark  ye,  Lizette,  these  two  peasants  are 
from  Madame's  old  home.  Take  them  in  by  the 
stone  stairway  and,  if  the  green  door  be  fast, 
unlock  it.  Then  show  them  to  Madame's  room, 
first  seeing  whether  or  no  she's  by  herself.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Out,  mon  grandpere." 

The  child,  with  yellow  locks  flying,  danced 
before  them,  turning  every  now  and  then  to  say 
brightly : 

"This  way,  this  way!" 

Then  as  they  reached  the  chateau  she  opened 
a  small  door  in  the  west  wing  and  began  swiftly 
to  mount  the  stairs,  they  following  more  slowly. 
From  the  time  the  child  appeared,  Madame 
Moreau  had  not  spoken,  but  kept  her  eyes  bent 
on  the  ground.  At  the  top  of  the  flight  they 
found  the  door  open,  but  their  little  guide  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Madame  Moreau  started 
to  walk  down  the  dimly  lighted  corridor,  and  as 
she  turned  a  sharp  angle  almost  collided  with 
Lizette. 

"This  way,"  said  the  child.  "I  told  Madame, 
and  she  said  for  you  to  come  right  away!" 

Annette,  giving  her  a  sou,  thanked  her,  saying 
pleasantly: 


THE  CHATEAU  DBS  CLERES  129 

"Take  that  for  your  trouble." 

Madame  Moreau's  hand  was  on  the  latch. 
The  great  carved  door  swung  open,  and  Annette 
found  herself  with  Madame  in  a  spacious 
chamber,  whose  only  occupant  was  an  invalid 
lying  on  a  broad  divan  in  the  recess  of  the  oriel 
window.  Obeying  a  gesture  from  her  mistress, 
she  fastened  the  door,  waiting  to  see  what  next. 
Madame  Moreau  hastened  to  her  friend's  side, 
who  exclaimed: 

"Irene,  Irene  !  In  this  guise?  From  whence 
did  you  come?" 

"Shi  Sh!"  said  Madame  Moreau.  "Call 
me  not  by  that  name.  Walls  have  ears.  Are 
you  sure  there  is  no  one  near?" 

"No  one,  mon  amie,  no  one." 

"Hath  not  Alphonse  De  Witte  arrived,  Es: 
telle?"  said  Madame  Moreau  anxiously.  "He 
should  be  here.  And  where  is  Saint  Etienne?" 

"You  ask,  mon  amie,  whether  the  brave  Al 
phonse  has  reached  Cleres?  Did  you  expect 
him  to  be  punctual?  If  I  were  you,  I  should  not 
have  such  faith,  but  then,  ma  chere,  you  are  not 
a  faded  flower  like  your  poor  Estelle,  but  a  rose 
just  ready  to  bloom ! 

"As  to  Saint  Etienne,"  she  added,  spreading 
out  her  hands  in  a  comprehensive  gesture, 
"where,  oh,  where?  Ask  me  not." 

Her  comparison  reminded  Madame  Moreau 
of  the  Earl  of  Wotton,  and  brought  vividly  to 
her  mind  the  little  salon  at  The  Silver  Moon, 
the  dainty  supper  and  the  expression  which 


130  CONQUERORS  ALL 

more  than  once  she  had  caught  in  the  Earl's 
kindly  gray  eyes. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  ma  chere  amie? 
Your  smile  warms  the  spot  where  once  I  had 
a  heart!  But  you  must  be  famished." 

"No,  dearest  Estelle,  only  fatigued  from  my 
journey  and  annoyed  to  think  that  Monsieur  De 
Witte  has  not  arrived.  Should  he  not  reach 
here  by  noon  of  the  morrow,  I  shall  feel  com 
pelled  to  go  on  to  Paris." 

"Not,  surely,  to  that  corrupt  city,  ma  chere? 
But  there !  one  of  your  lovers  must  be  either 
at  Vernon  or  Rouen !" 

"Had  I  not  known,  kindest  of  friends,  that 
the  Court  was  not  at  Paris,"  replied  Madame 
Moreau,  "I  should  not  have  attempted  this 
journey.  It  is  of  the  gravest  importance  for  me 
to  know  the  mind  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins.  If 
his  agent  does  not  come,  I  have  no  alternative." 

"But,  ma  belle"  replied  the  Countess,"  even 
des  Ursins  may  be  at  Rouen." 

"That  may  be  true.  Yet  methinks  he'll 
scarce  be  there.  If  I  do  not  see  Monsieur  De 
Witte,  I  must  go  to  Paris." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


"For  never  anything  can  be  amiss, 
When  simpleness  and  duty  tender  it." 
— A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Madame 
Moreau  arrived  at  the  Chateau  de  Cleres  was 
the  same  as  that  on  which  Lady  Beatrice  waited, 
while  Simon  hailed  loudly  the  keeper  of  the 
drawbridge  at  Agincourt.  The  moon  had  just 
risen  and  threw  fantastic  pictures  on  the  great 
battlements  and  towers  and  made  the  chains 
which  held  up  the  bridge  gleam  like  molten 
silver.  The  water  was  high  in  the  moat,  offen 
sive  of  odor,  as  though  its  sluggish  depths  had 
been  recently  stirred. 

"What  ho  ye!  what  ho!"  cried  Simon,  in 
stentorian  tones.  "What  ho  ye !  what  ho !  down 
with  the  drawbridge!" 

Listening  intently  they  heard  a  loud  rumble, 
the  clang  of  a  door,  heavy  steps  climbing  slowly, 
then  a  voice  from  the  shadow  of  the  turret 
shouted  back  as  loudly  as  Simon's  own : 

"Who  challenges  the  hospitality  of  Agin 
court?" 

"One  Simon  of  Wotton,  with  his  young  lady, 
the  grand-daughter  of  the  Duchess  de  Berry. 
Open,  man;  keep  us  not  tarrying  here.  We 

131 


132  CONQUERORS  ALL 

are  tired  with  long  riding  and  fasting.  Open! 
I  say,  open!" 

Lady  Beatrice  smiled.  In  spite  of  her  weari 
ness  she  could  not  help  feeling  amused  as  she 
marked  the  tone  and  manner  in  which  Simon  de 
manded  admittance.  She  knew,  deep  down  in 
her  heart,  none  could  be  kinder  than  he.  The 
man  on  the  battlement,  being  a  Frenchman,  on 
hearing  that  a  lady  was  waiting  and  she  the 
grand-daughter  of  their  visitor,  the  Duchess  de 
Berry,  stepped  more  quickly  than  when  climbing 
the  ladder,  though  he  grumbled  beneath  his 
breath,  saying,  as  he  drew  back  the  bolts : 

"Sacre  Dieu!  These  Anglais  are  boors  at 
the  best!" 

The  little  party  heard  a  dull  clanking  of 
chains,  the  rattling  of  bolts,  loud  creaking,  then 
shouts  mingling  with  the  clatter  of  feet  on  the 
stone-paved  court-yard.  Amid  the  deafening 
din,  a  sound  as  of  a  huge  monster  tortured,  dis 
tressed,  the  portcullis  lifted.  Released  from  its 
bonds,  the  great  drawbridge  spanned  the  moat. 
Wide  open  flew  the  door.  Torches  flamed  high 
in  air.  Between  the  lintels  of  the  low  massive 
gateway,  with  his  long  gray  hair  and  mustachios 
blown  about  by  the  wind,  stood  Hugues  Brey- 
onne,  tall,  broad-shouldered,  erect,  the  seneschal 
of  Agincourt.  Behind  him  were  a  dozen  or 
more  men-at-arms,  their  rugged  faces  and  stout 
leathern  jerkins  lighted  by  the  blazing  resinous 
flambeaux  held  aloft  in  their  strong  knotted 
hands. 

"Welcome,  le  demoiselle  de  Wotton.    Thrice 


SIMON  DELIVERS  UP  His  TRUST  133 

welcome  to  Agincourt!"  exclaimed  the  stout 
Hugh  in  a  hearty  tone  as  Spitfire,  with  Lady 
Beatrice,  crossed  to  where  he  was  standing. 
"Your  good  grandmere  has  had  a  man  on  the 
watch-tower  since  yesterday  at  sunset  to  see  if 
in  the  distance  he  could  mark  your  approach. 
Ah,  is  that  you,  my  Lord,  le  Comte  d'Epernon ! 
Why  did  you  not  hail  Hugh  Breyonne?  Had 
he  but  heard  your  voice,  perchance  this  fair 
Mademoiselle  need  not  have  tarried  so  long. 
Where  is  the  Anglais  who  summoned  us  so  cour 
teously?  Who  is  he,  my  lord?" 

"Not  so  fast,"  exclaimed  Simon  angrily.  "It's 
not  the  Comte  d'Epernon  who  acts  as  escort  for 
Lady  Beatrice  of  Wotton,  but  Simon  Lapland, 
that's  known  her  since  first  she  saw  the  light. 
In  spite  of  his  demerits,  her  father,  the  Earl  of 
Wotton,  thought  him  as  well  able  as  himself  to 
protect  her  till  she  could  be  placed  with  her 
grand-dame,  the  Duchess  de  Berry.  But  where 
shall  I  take  my  young  lady?  She's  not  used  to 
waiting  midst  a  score  of  gaping  men!" 

"Here,  you,  Arnot,  take  charge  of  these 
men!"  cried  Hugh,  as  he  turned  to  the  captain 
of  the  men-at-arms  standing  near  him,  "while 
I  show  Mademoiselle  de  Wotton  and  le  Comte 
d'Epernon  to  the  great  reception  hall  where 
await  Madame  and  the  Duchess." 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast!"  cried  Simon,  more 
fiercely  than  before.  "Do  you  think  I  will  thus 
give  up  my  charge?  Lead  on,  if  you  will,  but 
I  follow  to  deliver  the  message  which  I  bear 


134  CONQUERORS  ALL 

from  the  Earl  of  Wotton  to  the  Duchess  de 
Berry." 

Lady  Beatrice  had  been  greatly  diverted  by 
this  little  by-play  between  the  old  henchman  and 
the  seneschal  of  Agincourt,  but  now  she  felt  that 
it  had  gone  far  enough. 

"That  is  right,  good  Simon,"  she  said  very 
sweetly.  "You  come  with  me.  I  am  sure  our 
good  friend  Here,  Sir  Hugh  Breyonne,  will  not 
only  lead  the  way  to  the  great  hall  of  which  he 
speaks,  but  will  also  see  to  it  that  Jock,  one  of 
my  men  who  has  been  sorely  injured  in  pro 
tecting  me,  has  a  comfortable  bed  and  the  best 
of  attendance.  He  is  a  brave  lad,  deserving 
every  care.  Come,  Bess !  We  are  ready,  Sir 
Hugues!" 

Before  the  Count  could  assist  her  Lady 
Beatrice  had  sprung  from  the  saddle,  while  the 
old  Frenchman,  much  mollified,  said  with  a 
smile  in  his  eyes  and  a  twitching  of  his  brave 
mustachios,  as  he  caught  the  expression  on 
Count  d'Epernon's  face : 

"This  way,  Mademoiselle  de  Wotton :  this 
way,  my  lady!" 

With  native  politeness  he  conducted  the  party 
into  a  great  baronial  hall  with  a  carpeted  dais 
at  its  head.  The  wind  which  the  opening  of 
the  door  permitted  to  enter  freely,  sent  many 
a  war  banner  waving,  while  more  than  one  tat 
tered  trophy  and  long  pennant,  hanging  from 
wall  and  ceiling,  seemed  to  Lady  Beatrice  to 
bid  her  welcome  as  she  advanced  down  the 
great  hall.  On  the  raised  platform  or  dais 


SIMON  DELIVERS  UP  His  TRUST  135 

stood  a  noble-looking  woman  of  about  fifty,  the 
Lady  of  Agincourt,  tall,  stately,  imposing.  In 
a  high-backed  chair  upholstered  in  dark  red 
velvet,  sat  the  Duchess  de  Berry.  She  was  of 
medium  height,  thin  and  somewhat  bent.  Her 
long  nervous  hands  rested  lightly  upon  the  gold 
head  of  her  ebony  stick.  She  demanded  rever 
ence  from  all !  Her  silvery  white  hair,  piled 
high,  was  bound  with  a  tiara  of  flashing  jewels. 
Her  broad,  low  brow,  her  violet  eyes,  keen, 
penetrating,  observant;  her  regular  features  and 
complexion  of  ivory,  awoke  in  Lady  Beatrice  a 
swift  feeling  of  pleasure  mingled  with  awe  and 
admiration. 

Rising  to  her  feet,  her  black  velvet  robe  fall 
ing  majestically  about  her,  the  Duchess  said 
with  impressive  dignity: 

"This,  Countess  of  Agincourt,  is  my  grand 
daughter,  Lady  Beatrice  of  Wotton!" 

With  a  kindly  smile  the  lady  of  the  castle 
extended  her  hand,  which  our  young  traveller, 
in  true  English  fashion,  shook  heartily.  Then, 
dropping  on  one  knee  before  her  grand-dame 
and  pressing  her  warm  lips  to  the  beautiful  hand 
on  which  shone  her  birth  stone,  a  ruby  of  great 
price,  she  said  ingenuously: 

"I  am  so  glad  to  get  here,  grand-mere,  and  I 
trust  you  are  glad  to  see  me !" 

The  duchess's  eyes  showed  a  suspicious  mois 
ture,  as  she  replied,  a  smile  bringing  a  touch  of 
youth  to  her  face : 

"Yes,  my  child.  You  are  welcome  for  your 
mother's  sake  as  well  as  for  your  own." 


136  CONQUERORS  ALL 

As  the  duchess  once  more  sat  back  in  her 
chair  Lady  Beatrice,  turning  to  old  Simon,  said 
with  a  reassuring  smile : 

"This,  grandmere,  is  Simon  Lapland,  a  trusty 
retainer  and  friend  of  the  House  of  Wotton. 
Under  his  protection  I  have  come  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Somme  as  well  cared  for  as  though 
my  father  had  been  with  me.  He  bears  a  packet 
and  a  message  which  he  would  fain  give  you 
himself." 

With  glistening  eyes  and  a  pleased  expression 
upon  his  rugged  face  Simon,  standing  stiff  and 
straight,  as  though  on  dress  parade,  had  been 
keenly  watching  his  young  mistress.  But  when 
the  Duchess  de  Berry  turned  her  piercing  glance 
upon  him  he  felt  all  strength  leave  his  knees. 
His  lips  grew  dry,  his  mouth  parched,  and  for  a 
brief  moment  no  fitting  words  would  come  with 
which  to  acknowledge  his  young  lady's  introduc 
tion. 

Then,  like  a  captain  who  faces  great  danger, 
he  rallied  his  courage,  and  stepping  forward, 
with  humble  obeisance  as  though  to  a  queen,  he 
said  with  a  look  as  direct  and  scrutinizing  as 
her  own: 

"It's  a  pleasure,  Madame,  for  a  humble  re 
tainer  like  me  to  bring  in  safety  my  young  Lady 
de  Wotton  to  the  Castle  of  Agincourt.  The 
Earl,  her  father,  bade  me  tender  you  his  com 
pliments  and  kindest  wishes  for  your  health  and 
happiness,  saying  that,  when  the  time  came  for 
him  to  turn  back  to  England  he  would  come  for 
his  daughter.  Till  then,  he  should  feel  safer  to 


SIMON  DELIVERS  UP  His  TRUST  137 

know  she  was  under  your  protection.  This  is 
the  packet,  Madame  la  Duchesse,  which  he  bade 
me  place  in  your  own  hand.  It  contains  rare 
family  jewels  which  his  late  wife,  the  Countess 
of  Wotton,  brought  with  her  wedding  dower. 
Through  these  troublous  times  he  deemed  they 
would  be  safer  with  you.  Here  also  is  a  letter 
which  he  said  would  explain  more  fully  about 
my  young  lady.  Now,  by  your  leave,  Duchess 
de  Berry,  I'll  deliver  up  my  trust." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE  GOLDEN  MESHES  OF  LOVE 

"I  had  a  thing  to  say, — 
But  I  will  fit  it  with  some  better  time." 
— King  John, 

It  was  the  middle  of  October.  Lady  Beatrice, 
who  had  become  accustomed  to  the  ways  of  her 
grand-dame,  found  her  both  velvet  and  steel. 
The  Countess  of  Agincourt,  in  the  weeks  that 
had  passed,  experienced  a  new  pleasure  in 
existence.  She  was  a  childless  woman  with  a 
great  heart,  and  already  she  had  learned  to 
love  the  blithe  English  maiden  whom  she  called 
her  "Anglais  fleur-de-lis." 

The  Comte  d'Epernon,  more  a  prisoner  than 
ever  through  the  tightening  of  his  bonds  by 
the  golden  meshes  of  love,  still  lingered  as  an 
honored  guest  at  Agincourt,  waiting  the  old 
henchman's  behest.  Simon's  heart-strings  had 
felt  many  a  strong  pull  during  the  long  dreary 
hours  that  he  had  watched  by  the  bedside  of 
his  son,  Jock,  who,  delirious,  wasted  with  fever, 
suffering  from  exposure,  fatigue  and  his  wounds, 
battled  for  his  life.  These  trying  hours  had 
brought  Bess's  good  heart  to  the  fore.  To-day, 
as  Jock  for  the  first  time  was  assisted  by  his 
father  and  Hugh  Breyonne  into  a  sheltered 
nook  where  the  sun  lay  with  a  warm  benedic 
tion,  she  fluttered  about  him  on  the  broad  battle- 
138 


THE  GOLDEN  MESHES  OF  LOVE  139 

ment  like  a  bright  plumaged  bird  ready  to  fight 
for  its  young.  To  Jock  the  air,  cool,  restoring, 
invigorating,  gave  promise  of  renewed  health, 
while  the  sun  gleaming  on  the  River  Ternoise 
set  him  to  thinking  of  a  stream  near  the  old 
farm  at  Wotton  where  he  played  as  a  boy. 

Hugh  Breyonne  pointed  out  to  him  in  the  dis 
tance,  Hesdin,  while  Simon  said  with  a  covert 
smile : 

"Cressy  lies  just  beyond  I" 

But  the  old  seneschal  was  not  listening;  at 
least,  he  pretended  not  to  be. 

"You  must  not  sit  here  too  long,  Jock,"  said 
Bess  gently,  as  she  drew  a  great  cape  around  his 
shoulders,  "lest  you  get  over  tired.  But  here 
comes  my  young  lady,  as  bonny  as  though  we 
were  in  England  instead  of  walled  up  here.  Do 
you  mark,  Jock,  the  Count?  Watch  his  eyes, 
his  smile!  One  can  easily  see  the  state  of  his 
mind.  As  to  our  young  mistress,  she's  not  like 
lasses  you  know.  Sometimes  I  think  she's  as 
deep  in  love  with  the  Count  as  he  with  her; 
then,  beshrew  me,  if  I  do  not  believe  that  I  have 
mistaken  for  love  what  she  calls  'friendship :' 
yet,  were  I  in  her  place,  I  should  have  surren 
dered  long  afore  this!  It's  plain  to  see  he  has 
no  eyes  for  any  one  but  her.  Don't  you  think 
so,  Jock?" 

"You  coddle  me,  lass,  as  though  I  were  a 
sick  granny,  'stead  of  a  stout  yeoman.  As  to 
our  young  mistress,  she  reminds  me  of  that  tall 
marble  image  at  Wotton  which  the  Earl  did 
tell  me  was  Aphrodite,  or  some  such  heathenish 


140  CONQUERORS  ALL 

name.  I  am  glad  she  does  not  turn  to  the 
Frenchman,  though  he  be  a  man  after  my  own 
liking  were  he  but  English.  Yet  thou  knowest 
more  about  love,  Bess,  than  I.  There's  but  one 
lass  that  to  me  ever  seemed  worth  the  loving, 
and  she's  uncertain  as  April  weather !  Can  you 
guess  who  it  be?" 

"Not  I,  Jock.  When  you  were  sick,  you  did 
talk  of  more  lasses  than  one."  Bess  gave  him 
a  mischievous  smile,  then  continued:  "But  I 
could  not  catch  the  name  of  any  other  but  me ! 
Do  you  not  think  I  make  a  proper  nurse?" 

Simon,  who  had  strolled  along  the  wall  with 
Hugh  Breyonne,  now  returned.  With  a  light 
in  his  eyes  that  she  had  never  seen  before  when 
directed  toward  her,  he  said  heartily,  answering 
the  question  for  Jock: 

"That  you  did,  my  lass!  He  can  thank  you 
for  his  life,  and  his  young  mistress  for  sparing 
your  service  that  you  might  do  for  him  what  his 
rough  old  father  could  not!" 

At  that  moment  Lady  Beatrice  and  the  Count 
joined  them.  In  her  hand  was  a  glass  of  wine. 

"This,  Jock,"  she  said  cheerily,  "will  keep 
you  from  taking  cold.  I  have  a  piece  of  good 
news  for  you  and  Simon." 

"News!"  they  exclaimed.  "Whence  comes- 
it?" 

"From  Harfleur,"  replied  their  young  mis 
tress,  with  an  arch  glance  at  the  Count.  "It  has 
capitulated  to  King  Henry.  Father  will  be  here 
anon.  Is  not  that  worth  hearing,  Simon  ?  Does 
it  not  put  new  strength  in  you,  Jock?  I  will 


THE  GOLDEN  MESHES  OF  LOVE  141 

read  you  a  part  of  my  letter.  You  need  not 
go,  Comte  d'Epernon.  Yes,  here  it  is,"  as  she 
turned  over  a  page :  "  'This  twenty-second  day 
of  September  after  as  gallant  a  fight  to  keep 
their  town  as  I  did  ever  see,  Sire  d'Estouteville, 
a  man  dauntless  in  bearing,  noble  as  well,  sur 
rendered  the  keys  to  King  Henry.  When  we 
entered  Harfleur,  we  saw  a  pitiable  sight, — 
stout  men,  who  at  least  were  stout  once  on  a 
time; — women,  maidens  and  children,  gaunt 
with  famine,  hollow-eyed,  grief-stricken, — but 
I  will  not  tear  your  young  heart  with  further 
description  of  their  case,  nor  harrow  you  with 
an  account  of  the  wounds  and  deaths  from  dis 
ease  which  had  laid  many  a  good  Englishman 
low  at  the  siege  of  Harfleur,  both  baron  and 
archer,  man-at-arms  and  foot  soldier.  I  know 
not,  for  as  yet  it  has  not  been  determined,  how 
quickly  we  march.  Tonight  our  good  King  Hal 
holds  a  council.  One  thing  is  certain,  he  will 
cross  Normandy  to  Calais,  neither  plundering 
nor  looting,  but  as  a  traveler  through  a  peace 
able  country,  unless  he  be  stopped  on  his  way. 
It  is  then,  if  such  thing  happen,  he  would  fight 
as  only  King  Hal  can ! 

"  'Your  father,  with  Aleck  and  Edward,  came 
forth  from  the  encounter  unscathed.' 

"  'You  remember  Robert  of  Derwater,  who 
sailed  on  the  Lively  when  we  crossed  from 
Southampton — ?'  " 

"Yes,  my  lady,  yes !  What  says  he  of  him?" 
cried  Bess,  unable  to  refrain  from  questioning, 
for  her  mistress  at  that  juncture  had  dropped 


142  CONQUERORS  ALL 

the  letter  and  was  looking  off  from  the  scenery 
as  though  her  thoughts  would  never  return. 

"Oh,  did  you  speak,  Bess?  What  is  it?  Ah, 
I  see,  you  feel  an  interest  in  Robert  of  Der- 
water!  Are  you  in  love  with  him  or  he  with 
you?  But  I  will  spare  your  blushes  and  read 
on, — 'He  received  a  flesh  wound  in  his  arm,  and 
a  battle-axe  came  too  heavily  upon  his  skull.  He 
has  just  looked  into  my  tent  to  say  that  there 
is  no  danger  of  his  head  ever  being  broken, — 
and,  by  my  faith,  I  think  not!  The  King  has 
taken  a  great  liking  to  Robert  and  shows  him 
marked  favor. 

'But  how  is  Simon?  I  trust  you  were  not  out 
in  the  storm.  Tell  him  to  abide  where  he  is. 
On  our  way  I  shall  stop  one  night  at  least  at 
Agincourt.  No  one  knows  but  what  his  good 
arm  will  be  needed  before  we  reach  Calais' — 
the  rest  of  the  letter  has  interest  only  for  me: 
but  you  must  hurry  and  get  well,  Jock." 

Simon,  who  had  listened  intently,  now  ex 
claimed: 

"That's  so,  my  lady.  The  quicker  the  better." 

He  gave  a  keen  glance  at  Bess  at  that  point 
of  the  letter  which  referred  to  Robert  of  Der- 
water,  beneath  which  she  lowered  her  eyes, 
while  a  dark  flush  stole  up  to  her  hair.  He  had 
thought  of  leaving  them  alone  and  having  a  talk 
with  Sir  Hugh,  but  now  changed  his  mind  and 
sat  down  on  the  stone  bench  in  the  angle  of  the 
wall,  much  to  Jock's  disappointment.  Lady 
Beatrice,  having  accomplished  what  she  had 
set  out  to  do,  cried  gaily: 


THE  GOLDEN  MESHES  OF  LOVE  143 

"Bonne  fortune!"  and,  with  a  graceful  wave 
of  her  hand,  turned,  walking  beside  the  Count 
to  where  the  southwest  wall  permitted  a  wider 
view  of  the  valley. 

"Ah,  me !"  she  exclaimed  naively,  looking 
up  from  beneath  her  long  lashes  at  the  Count, 
whose  bright  eyes  held  a  quizzical  smile;  "it's 
such  hard  work  to  keep  folks  in  order.  Now 
there's  Bess,  as  kind-hearted  a  lass  as  one  might 
wish  to  see  in  a  long  day's  journey;  yet  she  is 
never  contented  unless  making  some  one  love 
her,  or  pretending  that  she  loves  him.  I  know, 
Comte  d'Epernon,  you  will  agree  with  me  that 
friendshsip  is  much  better  than  love !  The  little 
blind  god  is  too  capricious,  too  selfish,  or  too 
self-denying — just  as  the  fever  takes  him.  I 
told  Bess  when  we  were  traveling  hither  that 
it  was  wrong  to  play  with  the  heart  of  a  good 
man  like  Jock  Lapland  or  Robert  of  Derwater ! 
Do  you  not  think  I  am  right?" 

"Most  assuredly,  mademoiselle,  most  assur 
edly.  But  mayhap  she's  like  yourself,  one  who 
calls  forth  love  unconsciously.  You  must  be 
aware  of  that — " 

"Oh!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Lady  Beatrice, 
"see  this  red  spot  on  my  arm!  Has  something 
bitten  me?  Can  it  be  a  spider?" 

The  Count,  as  he  pretended  to  closely  ex 
amine  the  cool,  rounded  white  arm,  felt  a  thrill 
which  intensified  the  longer  he  retained  it.  But 
Lady  Beatrice  had  good  reason  to  think  he  was 
taking  his  time  in  determining  whether  the  pinch 
she  had  given  herself  was  the  bite  of  a  spider. 


144  CONQUERORS  ALL 

When  he  gently  released  her  arm  he  said  quite 
soberly : 

"You  need  not  feel  alarmed,  Lady  Beatrice. 
If  I  mistake  not,  the  sting  and  the  redness  will 
soon  disappear.  But  to  continue  what  I  was 
saying — " 

"Excuse  me,"  cried  Lady  Beatrice  hastily. 
"Do  you  not  see  grandmere's  handkerchief 
waving  from  her  window?  She  needs  me,  so 
I  must  postpone  listening  to  what  you  were 
about  to  tell  me  until  another  time — a  more 
favorable  opportunity.  Bon  jour,  le  Count 
d'Epernonf" 

With  a  mocking  courtesy  and  a  merry  back 
ward  glance  over  her  shoulder,  she  cried,  as  she 
hastened  down  the  steps : 

"Bon  jour,  mon  ami!" 

"It  is  thus,"  soliloquized  the  Count,  "on  one 
pretext  or  another,  she  ever  eludes  me.  Yet  my 
time  will  come.  Mayhap  it  were  better  for  me 
to  see  the  Earl.  Still,  when  she  is  so  adorable, 
so  bewitching,  tantalizing  me  with  her  beauty 
and  dainty  caprice,  what  wonder  I  lose  my  head 
and  forget?  But  I  know  the  Duchess  wishes 
me  well,  and  the  Countess  also :  yes,  even  saucy 
Bess,  herself,  who  is  past  mistress  in  the  game 
of  love!" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  PERILOUS  JOURNEY  UNDERTAKEN 

"There  are  reasons  and  causes  for  it." 
— The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

On  the  afternoon  on  which  Madame  Moreau 
arrived  at  Cleres,  her  friend,  the  Countess 
Estelle,  was  freer  than  usual  from  the  intense 
pain  which  made  her  young  life  at  times  almost 
unbearable. 

The  two  school  friends,  for  both  had  been 
educated  at  the  same  convent,  passed  the  re 
mainder  of  the  afternoon  in  confidential  con 
versation.  Among  other  things  they  spoke  of 
the  disturbed  condition  of  that  part  of  Nor 
mandy,  due  to  the  marshalling  of  troops  and  the 
prospect  of  battle. 

The  sun  was  setting,  yet  no  word  had  come 
from  Alphonse  De  Witte.  Madame  Moreau 
grew  restless. 

"Do  you  not  think,  Irene,"  asked  her  friend, 
tapping  nervously  with  slim  fingers  the  low 
table  beside  her,  "that  after  all  you  would  do 
better  to  go  to  Paris,  even  though  it  be  a  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah,  where  butchers  and  bakers, — 
yes,  the  very  canaille  dare  to  set  their  will 
against  that  of  the  King,  if  Burgundy  lifts  a 
finger!" 

145 


146  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Madame  Moreau  had  discarded  her  present 
dress  and  effaced  the  lines  so  carefully  traced. 
Now,  in  a  soft  amber  silk,  she  sat  looking  forth 
at  the  roseate  tint  made  by  the  setting  sun.  The 
park,  the  gardens,  the  southwest  wall,  were  a 
blaze  of  color.  Even  the  fountain,  a  marble 
Cupid  and  Psyche,  blushed  and  glowed  as 
though  warmed  into  life. 

"I  am  not  sure,  Estelle,  but  you  are  right. 
Had  you  suffered  as  I  for  almost  a  year  in  that 
very  same  city,  you,  too,  would  dread  to  return 
even  for  a  day!"  Then,  in  a  half  dreamy  tone, 
"Still  he  is  not  there." 

Rousing  herself,  she  continued : 

"After  all,  your  suggestion  is  good.  A  long 
talk  with  the  kind  Juvenal  des  Ursins  and  a  visit 
to  Rue  de  Chaillot  before  going  to  Chateau  de 
Verignon — " 

"But  Irene,  you  surely  will  not  risk  yourself 
in  your  feudal  Castle  near  the  Alps?" 

"Why  not,  Estelle?  The  farther  I  am  from 
Paris  the  better.  I  am  like  the  Wandering  Jew. 
Were  the  chateaux  as  safe,  I  would  rather  live 
at  Vars  or  Maine.  The  first  is  much  warmer 
in  winter  than  that  of  de  Verignon;  the  other 
more  pleasant  by  far,  from  old  association.  But 
I  shall  know,  when  I  see  my  old  friend,  what  is 
best  for  me  to  do.  Now  I  am  like  a  scallop- 
shell  adrift  on  a  tumultuous  ocean,  a  sea  of  un 
certainty;  first  borne  high  to  the  top  of  a  moun 
tainous  wave  by  the  hope  of  deliverance,  then 
down,  down,  into  its  very  depths — the  yawning 
trough  of  depression.  It  would  be  happiness 


A  PERILOUS  JOURNEY  UNDERTAKEN         147 

could  I  but  stay  here  with  you,  dearest  Estelle. 
Yet  that  cannot  be !  I  had  thought  of  putting 
myself  under  the  protection  of  the  Duchess  de 
Berry.  Were  she  at  Bruges,  I  might  have  done 
so." 

"Oh,  if  you  could  only  remain  with  me,  Irene, 
what  a  comfort  you  would  be.  Saint  Etienne 
scarce  ever  comes  now,  and  I  am  so  lonely.  Do 
you  think  it  safe?  I  live  so  retired,  then  I  am 
so  far  removed  from  the  main  road  to  Calais!" 

"Yes,  Estelle.  Yet  the  Dauphin  might  ride 
this  way  from  Paris.  Is  he  not  now  at  Rouen?" 

"No,  Irene,  the  Court  is  still  at  Vernon, 
though  any  day  it  may  change." 

The  shadows  lengthened.  The  great  clock 
in  the  turret  struck  eight,  then  the  half  hour. 
Still  Alphonse  De  Witte  did  not  come. 

"Annette!"  cried  Madame  Moreau,  "An 
nette!" 

"Yes,  my  lady,"  answered  the  girl  as  she 
drew  back  the  heavy  tapestry  which  separated  a 
small  anteroom  from  that  in  which  her  mistress 
was  sitting  with  her  friend. 

"Come  hither.  I  wish  you  to  meet  Jean  at 
the  gate  when  the  clock  strikes  nine.  Bring  him 
up  the  stone  stairway  to  the  little  room  which 
you  have  just  left.  I  will  see  him  there.  Make 
no  talk  with  Jacques  or  his  good  dame — it  is 
said  that  gate-keepers  are  ever  curious." 

"If  your  maid,  Irene,  can  tear  herself  away 
from  Babette  without  telling  her  all  she  knows, 
she  will  do  well!"  laughed  the  Countess. 


148  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Again  with  solemn  stroke,  a  knell  to  the  hope 
of  Madame  Moreau,  the  clock  rang  out  the 
hour  of  nine.  All  expectation  of  seeing  Alphonse 
De  Witte  had  left  her.  Hearing  Annette  and 
Jean  in  the  anteroom  she  rose,  saying  to  her 
friend: 

"I  must  set  forth,  Estelle,  at  dawn.  Is  there 
no  way  by  which  I  can  leave  the  park  without 
Jacques'  knowledge?" 

"Irene,  have  you  forgotten  that  little  gate  at 
the  end  of  the  serpentine  walk,  hidden  by  the 
trees?  Saint  Etienne  keeps  the  key  excepting 
when  he  is  away  for  a  length  of  time,  as  now. 
See,  it  is  hanging  yonder!  You  can  leave  it  in 
the  lock  and  later  I  will  send  Cossette  for  it. 
She  is  discreet." 

One  would  have  scarcely  recognized  in  Jean, 
the  peasant  who,  so  short  a  time  before  had 
driven  the  coverted  cart  with  its  span  of  tired 
horses  down  the  main  street  of  Cleres.  He  was 
evidently  more  at  home  in  his  forester's  suit  of 
green.  His  eyes  were  lighted  with  unconscious 
admiration  as  he  listened  respectfully  to  his 
young  mistress's  orders. 

"You  are  punctual  as  usual,"  said  Madame 
Moreau  pleasantly,  when  the  portiere  had 
dropped  behind  her.  "I  wish  you  to  wait  for 
me  at  dawn  on  the  road  to  Les  Andelys,  where 
you  will  see  set  close  together  in  as  many  rows, 
both  within  and  without  the  park  wall,  five 
poplars.  Purchase  fresh  horses  and  see  to  it 
that  there  is  a  good  supply  of  wine  and  food. 
Unless  there  be  reason  against  it,  we  will  take 


A  PERILOUS  JOURNEY  UNDERTAKEN         149 

the  forest  road.  I  have  changed  my  mind  as  to 
my  route  but  shall,  in  a  measure,  be  governed  by 
what  you  learn  at  Madame  Loudre's.  Be 
cautious.  Maybe  it  were  as  well  to  say  naught 
to  Baptiste." 

"Madame  can  depend  on  my  carrying  out  her 
wishes  faithfully!"  replied  Jean  earnestly. 

When  he  drew  up  at  the  five  poplars  the  sky 
was  of  that  neutral  tint  which  precedes  the 
dawn.  The  horses,  two  strong  grays,  had 
scarcely  come  to  a  stand  when  he  heard 
Madame  Moreau,  in  a  low  tone  call,  "Jean!" 
He  knew  by  the  sound  that  she  was  still  within 
the  park.  Making  his  way  through  a  sort  of 
maze  formed  by  the  trees,  he  found  himself 
facing  a  high  wall  thickly  set  at  the  top  with 
strong  iron  points.  In  the  gloom  he  could  see 
only  the  close  network  of  vine  and  caught  him 
self  wondering  how  his  mistress  expected  to 
join  him. 

A  sharp  rasping  noise  as  that  of  a  large  key 
grating  in  a  lock — a  muffled  exclamation,  and  at 
last,  to  his  astonishment,  a  piece  of  the  wall 
which  a  few  moments  before  had  seemed  as 
solid  and  impregnable  as  any  about  Paris,  began 
moving  toward  him.  Then  he  heard  his  mis 
tress  say: 

"The  gate  is  unlocked  but  Annette  and  I 
have  not  the  strength  to  push  it  open  wide 
enough  to  pass  through." 

Jean  saw  at  once  that  the  close  network  of 
vines  was  the  real  obstruction.  Hurrying  to  the 
cart  he  quickly  returned  with  an  axe.  A  few 


150  CONQUERORS  ALL 

sharp  strokes,  a  sudden  tug,  and  an  aperture 
was  made  sufficiently  wide  for  his  mistress  and 
Annette. 

"Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  pleasant  day, 
Jean?"  asked  Madame  Moreau,  anxiously 
scanning  the  sky. 

"It  does  not  look  it  now,  my  lady." 

"Sh !  Sh !  Remember,  Jean,  I  am  Sister 
Cecilia!" 

"Yes,  my — I  will  try  to  remember.  Did  you 
not  speak,  Madame  Moreau,  of  taking  the 
forest  road?  I  heard  it  said  late  last  night  at 
the  inn  that  the  heavy  rain  had  swollen  the 
Andelle  till  the  upper  ford  is  so  deep  that  cer 
tain  travelers,  who  passed  through  yesterday, 
swam  their  horses  with  difficulty  to  the  other 
side.  If  this  be  so,  Madame,  were  it  not  better 
to  cross  lower  down  by  the  bridge  ?" 

"That  is  the  one  thing,  Jean,  which  I  wish 
to  avoid.  Is  there  not  another  ford?" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  replied  Jean,  knitting  his 
brows,  "but  that  is  over  deep,  too.  We  will 
find  a  way  if  you  think  it  best  to  take  the  wood 
road." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  Madame 
Moreau  saw  the  sun  at  last  shine  forth,  giving 
promise  of  a  pleasant  day.  She  had  decided  to 
go  through  the  forest,  for  the  reports  that  Jean 
brought  her  of  marching  troops  and  small  bands 
of  armed  men,  made  her  realize  to  the  full  the 
necessity  of  great  precaution. 

She  had  transformed  Annette  into  a  middle- 
aged  woman  with  a  stiff  Normandy  cap  and  had 


A  PERILOUS  JOURNEY  UNDERTAKEN         151 

added  to  her  girth  till  she  looked  almost  as 
large  as  her  mother,  good  Rosette.  When 
Madame  Moreau  bade  her  friend  good-bye  that 
morning  by  candle-light,  Estelle  exclaimed 
"Irene,  you  are  a  born  artist!' 

Instead  of  her  peasant  costume  she  was 
dressed  as  a  Grey  Sister.  A  broad  white  band 
was  bound  low  on  her  forehead  while  another, 
brought  well  under  her  chin,  was  fastened  be 
neath  the  grey  hood  of  her  long  loose  gown. 
Around  her  neck  was  a  rosary  of  carved  beads; 
hanging  from  it  was  a  cross,  large  enough,  as 
Estelle  laughingly  said,  to  form  a  support  in 
case  the  cart  should  break  down.  Her  voice 
was  changed  by  means  of  two  smooth  pebbles 
placed  beneath  her  tongue,  that  the  Countess 
declared  there  would  be  no  danger  from  either 
Armagnac  or  Burgundian.  But  when  her  friend 
saw  Annette,  her  laughter  knew  no  bounds.  Oh 
entering  the  room  Madame  Moreau  had  found 
it  difficult  to  restrain  her  tears  but  it  was  not 
long  before  she,  too,  was  laughing  as  heartily 
as  the  volatile  countess. 

At  noon,  while  resting  in  the  heart  of  the 
forest,  Jean  explained  to  his  mistress  with  much 
satisfaction: 

"These  horses  are  much  faster  than  the 
others.  Already  we  have  come  two-thirds  of 
the  way!" 

"I  am  glad,"  replied  Madame  Morean.  "I 
had  feared  that  night  might  be  upon  us  before 
we  arrived  at  the  ford." 


152  CONQUERORS  ALL 

She  had  scarcely  spoken  when,  from  the  dis 
tance,  came  the  shrill  notes  of  a  bugle.  Baptiste 
looked  frightened.  Jean  hastened  to  fasten  the 
horses  into  the  cart,  while  Madame  Moreau 
cautioned  Annette  to  avoid  speaking.  In  a  few 
moments  they  were  again  in  motion.  Jean,  who 
had  hastily  whipped  up  the  horses,  looked  to 
the  right  and  left,  hoping  to  find  a  cross-cut  by 
which  they  might  avoid  the  oncoming  party.  In 
the  meantime,  Madame  Moreau  began  to  count 
her  beads  industriously. 

Gaily  the  horn  sounded  and  merrily  thirty- 
lusty  voices  trolled  the  refrain : 

"Five  le  Rot,  vive  le  Roi; 
Five  la  Compagnie!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN  ORDEAL  PASSED  AND  PARIS  REACHED 

"If  you  were  men,  as  men  you  are  in  show, 
You  would  not  use  a  gentle  lady  so." 

— A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

Beneath  the  shade  of  the  arching  trees,  two 
abreast,  rode  cap-a-pie  at  least  thirty  men-at- 
arms,  tanned,  sunburned  and  jolly.  Strapped  to 
their  backs  were  short  bows  and  arrows.  Each 
man  wore  a  stout  blade  with  two  pistols  at  his 
belt.  Their  mouths  were  stretched  widely,  as 
they  roared  in  chorus : 

"Five  le  Rot,  vive  le  Rot; 
Five  la  Compagnie!" 

Their  leader,  a  young  Frenchman  bearing  the 
indelible  marks  of  dissipation,  was  even  more 
merry,  if  that  were  possible,  than  his  troop. 
Madame  Moreau,  catching  sight  of  him  as  he 
crossed  an  open  space  where  the  sunlight 
brought  into  clear  relief  every  feature,  experi 
enced  a  feeling  of  fear.  She  knew  the  man  and 
that  to  her  his  presence  meant  a  menace,  a 
danger.  It  was  not  her  nature  to  succumb,  but 
to  meet  the  ills  of  life  courageously.  Her  hands 
trembled  slightly  as  she  counted  her  beads  in  a 
half  suppressed  whisper,  and  a  prayer  went  up 
for  strength  with  which  to  face  the  coming 
ordeal. 

153 


154  CONQUERORS  ALL 

There  was  little  time  to  decide  upon  any 
plan  of  action  for,  as  soon  as  the  leader  descried 
the  cart  and  its  inmates,  his  spurs  had  bit  deep 
into  the  noble  animal  he  bestrode.  Drawing 
rein,  he  called  out  imperiously: 

"Halt!" 

Jean,  as  well  as  his  troop,  obeyed. 

"Who  rides  here  so  fast?"  he  asked,  keenly 
scrutinizing  the  grey-habited  Sister.  "Are  you 
praying  for  me?  Morbleu!  it  might  be  well. 
But  why  bandage  your  face  so  none  can  see  it? 
One  is  not  able  to  tell  whether  you  are  fair  as 
the  morn  or  ugly  as  hell!" 

Jean's  ire  rose,  but  he  knew  better  than  to 
speak. 

Madame  Moreau,  with  eyes  lowered,  appar 
ently  paid  no  more  heed  to  his  words  than  as 
though  they  had  been  the  buzzing  of  a  fly  near 
her  ear.  Bead  after  bead  slipped  through  her 
fingers  as  she  mumbled  aves  and  paternosters, 
till  the  stranger,  who  still  eyed  her  intently, 
exclaimed  at  last  with  irritation: 

"Sacre  bleu!  can  you  not  leave  the  bon  Dieu 
to  care  for  himself  till  you  answer  a  civil  ques 
tion?  If  you  cannot  find  your  voice,  I  will  have 
you  stripped  and  make  you  dance  briskly  to  the 
piping  of  my  men.  Mon  Dieu!  we  will  tickle 
the  ribs  of  these  two  varlets  with  the  points  of 
our  blades,  while  that  mountain  of  jelly  over 
yonder  will  suit  to  perfection  Pierre  Garreau!" 

At  this  sally  the  men  laughed  uproariously, 
and  one  of  the  troopers,  with  a  villainous  oath, 
exclaimed : 


AN  ORDEAL  PASSED  AND  PARIS  REACHED     155 

"Take  her  yourself,  my  lord;  or  mayhap  you 
would  rather  have  la  belle  Irene,  if  you  could 
find  her  I  For  my  part,  I  am  well  suited  with 
the  fair  Josephine  whom  I  have  left  at  Vernon." 

"Sacre  nom  de  Dieuf"  cried  the  Count  Saint 
Etienne  de  Cleres  angrily.  "Be  not  so  ready 
with  your  tongue,  or  some  day  I  will  slit  it. 
Here,  Jean  Vourvere,  come  hither !  Betwixt 
you  and  me,  if  I  mistake  not,  we'll  not  be  long 
learning  whether  this  Sister  of  the  grey  garb 
is  lean  or  stout,  young  or  old!" 

Seeing  that  he  was  determined  to  make  her 
speak,  Madame  Moreau,  still  fingering  her 
beads,  her  hands  well  covered  by  her  loose  cape- 
like  sleeves,  at  last  addressed  him  in  the  quaver 
ing  tones  of  age : 

"Monsieur,  do  you  love  your  mother?  Did 
she  not  teach  you  to  reverence  age  and  the 
church?" 

She  well  knew  that  this  man,  her  friend's 
husband,  was  thoroughly  dissolute :  that  noth 
ing  would  stay  his  purpose  unless  it  were  a 
thought  of  this  parent  whom,  while  under  the 
influence  of  too  much  wine,  he  had  one  day 
struck  to  the  floor,  a  blow  which  had  caused  her 
death.  This  mother  alone  possessed  the  power 
to  check  his  fits  of  anger,  or  call  forth  even  the 
semblance  of  love.  With  a  savage  oath  and  a 
scowl  which  made  vertical  furrows  between  his 
eyes,  he  drew  back  his  horse,  dashing  the  rowels 
of  his  spurs  cruelly  into  it,  and  shouted  fiercely 
to  his  men : 


156  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Mon  Dieuf  what  are  you  all  staring  at? 
Come  on,  you  lazy  dogs  and  shut  those  vile 
traps  of  yours!" 

Without  another  glance  at  the  cart,  he  rode 
madly  past.  His  men,  grumbling  beneath  their 
breath,  following,  while  glances  both  of  fear 
and  hate  were  cast  at  the  grey-hooded  Sister 
who  was  holding  up  her  cross  as  though  to  warn 
them  from  their  headlong  career.  Jean  whipped 
up  his  horses,  being  anxious  to  widen  the  dis 
tance  between  them  in  as  short  a  space  of  time 
as  possible. 

Madame  Moreau,  fully  realizing  her  narrow 
escape,  breathed  more  freely  when  their  in 
creased  pace  left  the  troop  far  behind.  Her 
heart  went  out  with  even  deeper  sympathy  to 
the  friend  of  her  girlhood,  at  the  thought  of 
what  her  life  must  be  with  this  man  for  a  hus 
band.  She  had  never  explained  why,  on  her 
first  visit  to  this  dearest  of  friends,  she  had  left 
in  such  haste  the  Chateau  de  Cleres.  It  would 
but  add,  she  well  knew,  to  the  poignant  sorrow 
which  had  already  wrecked  the  happiness  of  one 
of  the  sunniest  of  natures. 

On  they  rode,  till  in  the  distance  like  a  band 
of  bluish  silver,  the  River  Andelle,  glistening  in 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  came  into  sight. 
They  were  on  a  gentle  elevation  and  the  view 
point  which  they  had  of  its  swollen  waters  made 
Jean's  question  as  to  whether  they  would  be 
able  to  ford  it,  awake  an  answering  doubt  in 
the  mind  of  his  mistress.  On  reaching  its  banks, 
he  drew  up  the  horses  and  jumping  down  from 


AN  ORDEAL  PASSED  AND  PARIS  REACHED     157 

the  cart,  looked  intently  for  the  crossing.  At 
last  on  finding  it,  his  heart  misgave  him  at  its 
depth.  He  realized  that  as  night  was  approach 
ing  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Returning  to 
his  mistress  he  said  in  a  tone  which  ill  concealed 
his  anxiety: 

"The  water  is  very  deep,  Madame  Moreau. 
Shall  I  not  take  one  of  the  horses  and  try  the 
crossing  to  see  whether  or  no  it  is  safe?" 

"Do  what  you  think  best,  Jean,"  replied  his 
mistress.  "Where  you  go  I  shall  not  fear  to 
follow.  But  we  must  hasten  if  we  would  have 
the  sun  to  light  our  way." 

Jean's  horse  lost  its  footing  when  near  the 
middle  of  the  ford,  but  quickly  regained  it. 
The  water  was  then  above  the  stirrup,  farther 
on  it  became  more  shallow,  and  Jean  regretted 
that  his  mistress  had  not  tried  the  venture  with 
him.  Turning  back,  he  rejoined  Madame 
Moreau.  Arranging  his  coat  on  the  other  horse 
for  a  pillion,  she  was  borne  in  safety  to  the 
opposite  shore. 

The  transportation  of  Annette  and  the  cart 
was  from  necessity  slow;  yet  in  less  than  an 
hour  from  the  time  of  their  arrival  at  the  river 
they,  with  their  belongings,  were  safely  landed 
on  the  opposite  bank.  Weary  and  somewhat 
dispirited,  Madame  Moreau  took  shelter  in  a 
small  hamlet  near  by,  whose  most  pretentious 
dwelling  belonged  to  the  good  priest,  Pere 
Bosque.  She  had  retained  her  disguise.  The 
next  morning  she  left  the  good  father  and  his 
housekeeper,  Marjorie,  who  still  believed  her  to 


158  CONQUERORS  ALL 

be  Sister  Cecilia  from  the  Convent  of  Notre 
Dame,  at  Rouen. 

For  days  they  journeyed  onward  keeping 
clear  of  the  friends  whom  she  had  intended  to 
visit,  and  the  Court  party  at  Vernon.  In  bear 
ing  away  from  the  river  and  Petit  Andely,  she 
noted  with  admiration  on  a  neighboring  hill, 
high  towering,  the  great  castle  of  Gaillard.  Its 
seventeen  towers  and  triple  links  of  outworks 
and  its  massive  gateway,  a  monument  to  the 
genius  of  its  designer,  were  brought  into  bold 
relief  by  the  brilliant  rays  of  the  sun.  This 
wonderful  Norman  castle  was  erected  in  1197 
by  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion,  to  protect  Nor 
mandy  against  the  inroads  of  the  French  mon- 
archs  and  command  the  navigation  of  the  Seine. 
Her  mind,  which  had  been  dwelling  upon  the 
Earl  of  Wotton,  naturally  wondered  whether 
he  had  seen  this  stronghold.  She  tried  to 
imagine  how  he  must  have  felt  when  remember 
ing  that  Philip  Augustus,  in  1204,  after  a  siege 
of  five  months,  had,  in  spite  of  its  eight  feet 
thickness  of  wall,  wrested  it  from  the  English. 
A  shiver  went  through  her  when,  before  her 
mental  vision,  arose  Queen  Margaret  of  Bur 
gundy,  wife  of  Louis  X.  In  fancy  she  saw  her 
in  one  of  the  towers  where,  it  was  said,  she  was 
murdered  in  1314.  As  fortress  and  battlements 
were  lost  to  sight  after  entering  the  forest  of 
Vernon,  her  thoughts  left  the  historical  Castle 
and  the  Earl,  to  return  to  the  object  of  her 
journey.  The  next  point  of  interest  to  attract 
her  attention  was  the  high  tower  at  Vernon, 


AN  ORDEAL  PASSED  AND  PARIS  REACHED     159 

built  by  Henry  the  First  of  England,  in  1123. 
She  knew  that  this  would  prove  a  landmark  by 
which  to  avoid  riding  too  near  the  town,  and 
would  also  prevent  their  losing  their  way  as  they 
pushed  onward  in  the  winding  wood  roads.  On 
the  evening  of  the  eighth  day  after  leaving 
Cleres,  she  entered  Paris  by  the  Porte  Saint 
Denis,  and  drove  in  the  darkness  to  the  rear  of 
Rue  de  Chaillot.  Here,  to  the  surprise  of 
Bertram,  the  old  major-domo,  who  had  come 
to  the  back  door  for  a  breath  of  air,  she 
accosted  him,  still  in  her  Grey  Sister's  dress. 

At  first  the  old  man  was  too  amazed  to  speak; 
then,  realizing  that  it  was  his  young  mistress, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  for  over  a  year,  he 
hastened  forwrard,  exclaiming  joyfully : 

"Who  would  have  thought  it!" 

"Sh!  Sh!  Bertram,"  said  Madame  Mo- 
reau  in  a  warning  whisper.  uMy  presence  here 
must  not  become  known.  I  will  go  by  the  back 
stairway  to  my  own  room,  where  you  can  serve 
me.  In  the  meantime,  see  to  it  that  Jean  and 
Baptiste  are  well  cared  for.  I  do  not  wish  them 
to  meet  any  one  but  you.  It  is  essential  to  me 
that  no  whisper  of  our  stay  at  the  Chateau 
should  get  abroad!" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


"Much  danger  I  do  undergo  for  thee." 

— King  John. 

It  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  Madame 
Moreau  found  herself  again  in  the  pretty  room 
which  had  been  her  mother's  and,  for  a  few 
short  months,  hers.  Its  furnishings  were  more 
modern  than  in  other  parts  of  the  Chateau,  and 
she  knew  that  more  than  one  of  its  tasteful 
adornments  was  due  to  her  father's  love  for 
that  mother  whom  she  scarcely  remembered. 

Annette,  as  she  entered  the  small  room  ad 
joining,  that  was  to  be  hers  during  their  stay, 
exclaimed  breathlessly : 

"Oh,  it's  too  beautiful  for  such  as  me !" 

This  was  her  first  visit  to  Paris.  From  a  tall 
wardrobe,  standing  in  the  corner,  she  took  down 
dainty  garments  of  linen  and  silk.  When  Bert 
ram  brought  in  the  supper  on  a  large  silver 
tray,  Madame  Moreau,  who  had  laid  aside  the 
disguise  which  had  done  such  good  service, 
looked  what  she  was,  a  beautiful  woman,  one 
that  had  been  tried  in  the  furnace  of  affliction 
and  come  forth  pure  gold. 

She  arose  early  the  next  morning,  calling 
Bertram  to  her,  and  bade  him  ascertain  whether 
Juvenal  des  Ursins  were  in  Paris.  She  warned 
160 


A  COWARD'S  THREAT  161 

him  to  use  every  precaution  and  place  her  letter 
in  no  other  hands  than  his  own.  Then  she  took 
up  the  burden  of  inaction,  of  waiting,  of  knowl 
edge  deferred,  which  is  often  harder  to  bear 
than  the  realization  of  that  which  we  fear.  One 
day  followed  another  till  her  heart  grew  sore. 
Weeks  followed  weeks,  and  it  was  not  until  she 
had  almost  given  up  hope  that  the  advocate- 
general  returned  to  his  home.  She  had  not 
dared  to  go  out  until  late  in  the  evening,  and 
then  only  for  a  short  walk  in  the  garden  when 
all  but  good  Bertram  and  Jean  were  abed. 
During  these  days  of  suspense,  she  grew  pale 
and  thin, — doubtful  how  to  act,  full  of  vain 
forebodings  lest  her  kind  friend  should  not 
come  in  time.  But  on  the  twenty-first  day  of 
October,  as  she  was  preparing  for  her  usual 
lonely  walk,  Jean  came  to  her  door,  saying  in  a 
low  delighted  whisper : 

"At  last,  my  mistress,  at  last!  Bertram  bade 
me  tell  you  that  within  the  hour,  the  advocate, 
Juvenal  des  Ursins,  will  be  with  you  I" 

For  a  moment  the  certainty  of  his  nearness 
seemed  to  break  the  attenuated  thread  of  her 
courage.  Tears,  rarely  seen  in  her  eyes  through 
pity  for  herself,  broke  their  bonds,  and  great 
pearly  drops  hung  on  her  lashes.  They  were 
quickly  wiped  away  as  she  heard  approaching 
footsteps  which  she  thought  must  be  those  of 
the  friend  whom  she  had  come  so  far  to  see, 
and  for  whom  she  had  waited  so  patiently.  It 
was  her  hand  that  opened  the  door:  her  glad 
voice  that  exclaimed  joyously: 


162  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Welcome,  dearest  friend,  welcome!" 

Who  shall  portray  her  horror,  her  terror, 
when,  instead  of  her  kind  adviser,  she  saw  one 
of  the  men  who  had  been  so  long  pursuing 
her, — no  less  a  person  than  Monsieur  Moreau ! 

A  sardonic  smile  curled  the  corners  of  his 
mouth;  his  eyes  gleamed  with  an  unholy  pleasure 
as  he  closed  the  door  and  pushed  back  the  bolt. 
There  they  stood  facing  each  other.  The 
pallor,  which  had  stolen  the  color  from  her 
cheeks  when  first  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  his 
face,  still  held  possession.  Her  eyes  expressed 
nothing  but  a  fearless  defiance,  as  they  looked 
into  his.  Her  trailing  robe  of  deep  crimson  silk 
well  became  her,  as  did  the  string  of  priceless 
opals  and  diamonds  that  encircled  her  smooth 
round  throat.  Her  head  was  held  high.  For  a 
brief  moment  the  man  standing  before  her, 
quailed  at  her  glance.  But  he  was  not  one  to 
remain  long  silent  when  close  at  hand  was  the 
woman  he  had  been  seeking  for  months.  So  he 
said  in  tones  clear  and  exultant: 

"Fairest  Irene,  I  have  found  you  at  last!  Did 
you  think  that  you  could  come  back  to  this  good 
city  of  Paris  and  remain  here  for  weeks  with 
out  it  being  known  to  me?  My  spies  knew  the 
very  night  of  your  arrival,  yet  were  not  sure  it 
was  you.  You  played  so  well  the  Grey  Sister ! 
But  one  evening,  mayhap  you  remember  it, 
when  Bertram  stood  near  at  the  fountain,  you 
did  chide  him  for  calling  you  by  name.  Before 
the  morning  a  swift  horse  was  bearing  to  your 


A  COWARD'S  THREAT  163 

lawful  husband  the  tidings  that  you,  the  fairest 
of  the  fair,  were  here  I" 

Stepping  toward  her  he  attempted,  in  spite 
of  her  scornful  bearing,  to  put  his  arm  around 
her  waist,  but  she  waved  him  back  with  an 
imperious  gesture.  His  arm  dropped  to  his 
side,  while  in  his  eyes  and  over  his  face  came 
an  expression  so  cruel,  so  malignant,  that  even 
her  stout  heart  felt  for  an  instant  a  sickening 
dread. 

"Sucre  nom  de  Dieu!"  he  hissed  between 
clenched  teeth.  "Do  you  think,  Madame 
Moreau,  that  you  can  beard  me?  You  have 
been  a  married  maid  too  long!  It  is  high  time 
that  I  assert  a  husband's  privilege." 

"A  husband!"  repeated  Madame  Moreau 
scornfully.  "Never  again  speak  of  your  odious 
self  as  husband  to  me  !" 

"Mon  Dieu!  Not  so  fast,  Madame  Dis 
dainful  !  Sacre  bleu!  neither  of  your  lovers, 
the  Dauphin  nor  Charles  d'Orleans  are  in 
Paris.  You  have  given  me  the  slip  for  the  first 
and  last  time,  for  by  fair  means  or  foul,  with 
or  without  your  consent,  you  shall  be  mine!" 

"Only  cowards  threaten  women,"  replied 
Madame  Moreau  with  superb  contempt.  "And 
now,  sir,  that  you  have  said  what  you  came  to 
say,  unbolt  that  door!  This  is  my  room,  my 
house,  and  there  are  laws  even  yet  in  France." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha !  That  is  exquisite.  A  tragedy 
Queen!  Laws,  are  there?  Certainly,  Madame 
Moreau,  but  the  law  is  for  the  husband.  Give 
me  one  kiss  and  your  promise  that  you  will  not 


164  CONQUERORS  ALL 

leave  this  Chateau  without  acquainting  me,  and 
I  will  bid  you  au  revoir  for  to-night,  having  an 
appointment  with  a  woman — a  perfect  she- 
devil — quite  as  fair  as  yourself!" 

"Will  you  open  the  door  and  leave  me, 
Monsieur,  or  do  you  prefer  waiting  for  my 
lackeys  to  thrust  you  forth?"  asked  Madame 
Moreau,  her  eyes  contemptuous,  defiant, 
menacing. 

"Soixante  mille  diables!  Do  you  think  I  am 
ice?  If  so,  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken. 
Look  to  it  that  you  do  not  go  too  far  with  your 
sneers.  Fentre  de  Christ!  If  I  were  not  already 
late,  I  would  stay  and  teach  you  a  lesson  even 
now,  that  you  would  not  forget.  Do  not  think 
you  can  escape  me, — every  door  and  window 
has  two  keen  eyes  watching  them.  No  one  can 
enter  or  go  forth  without  my  knowledge.  Keep 
your  sweet  words  and  loving  caresses  for  your 
husband  till  the  morrow.  Then,  as  the  bon 
Dieu  liveth, — then  you  shall  find  who  is 
master!" 

With  a  glance  which  seemed  to  scorch  her 
from  head  to  foot;  so  loathsome,  so  lustful,  so 
horrible  was  its  expression,  he  made  a  mocking 
bow,  slid  back  the  bolt  and  was  gone. 

Faint,  trembling  and  exhausted  now  that 
need  for  courage  was  past,  Madame  Moreau 
sank  into  a  great  armchair  upholstered  in  amber 
velvet.  Hours,  ages,  seemed  to  have  passed 
since  Jean  had  left  the  door,  after  telling  her  of 
the  expected  arrival  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins. 
The  thought  of  him  brought  the  quick  color  to 


A  Co  WARD'S  THREAT  165 

her  cheek — an  alarmed  look  to  her  eyes:  not 
for  worlds  would  she  have  him  court  danger 
for  her  sake.  Sharp  rang  her  bell.  Quick  came 
Jean  in  response  to  her  summons.  Words  fairly 
tumbled  from  her  lips  as  she  exclaimed 
agitatedly : 

"Jean,  I  am  watched !  Hasten  and  warn  my 
dear  old  friend  not  to  venture  to  the  Chateau. 
Tell  him  that  Monsieur  Moreau  has  been  here 
to-night  and  threatens  to  return  on  the  morrow. 
Say  that  I  shall  come  to  him  as  I  did  before. 
And  you,  Jean,  be  cautious !  Take  with  you  a 
lighted  link:  keep  a  sharp  look  out.  Let  them 
see  you  are  independent;  that  will  put  them  off 
the  track.  Wear  your  forester's  dress,  and  be 
prudent — be  bold — be  on  your  guard!  Mon 
sieur  des  Ursins  will  tell  you  where  to  meet  me 
when  I  join  you  with  Annette  and  Baptiste. 
Hasten!  Before  you  leave  the  Chateau  send 
good  old  Bertram  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  FLIGHT 

"Good   expedition,  be  my  friend." 

—A  Winter's  Tale. 

Obeying  his  mistress'  order  the  major-domo 
came  as  swiftly  as  age  would  permit,  anxiety 
and  alarm  depicted  on  his  wrinkled  face. 

"My  lady,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  trust  you  do  not 
blame  me!  What  could  I  do  'gainst  a  young 
man  of  his  sinews,  with  thirty  men  at  least  at 
his  back?" 

"I?  censure,  you  good  Bertram?  No,"  re 
plied  Madame  Moreau  reassuringly.  "I  sent 
for  you  that  you  might  hasten  my  supper.  Tell 
Baptiste  that  I  shall  soon  have  need  of  his 
service.  Fasten  each  door,  each  shutter,  and 
do  not  forget  to  push  every  bolt  home.  Let  no 
one  enter,  and  be  doubly  sure  that  there's  no 
stranger  within  the  Chateau.  Stay,  good  Bert 
ram,  you  might  also  bid  Baptiste  bring  to 
Annette  her  supper  as  well.  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  left  here  alone." 

While  Madame  Moreau  awaited  Bertram's 
appearance  with  the  tray,  she  called  her  hand 
maid  and  in  a  short  space  of  time  they  had  three 
parcels  bound  securely.  The  largest  and  heav 
iest  contained  her  jewels  and  rouleaux  of  gold. 
166 


THE  FLIGHT  167 

Their  task  was  finished  when  Bertram  knocked 
at  the  door.  Baptiste  stood  behind  him  and 
obeying  a  gesture  from  his  mistress,  carried 
Annette's  tray  to  the  inner  room  where  she  sat 
weeping  at  the  thought  of  so  soon  leaving  her 
comfortable  quarters. 

"Now,"  asked  Madame  Moreau  of  Bert 
ram,  "is  all  safe  and  quiet  below?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  mistress.  I  have  done  as  you 
commanded  me." 

"Then  go  to  your  son's  and  stay  for  the  night 
— yes,  till  I  bid  you  return." 

"But,  Madame,"  expostulated  Bertram,  with 
the  freedom  of  age  and  of  one  who  had  grown 
from  a  child  in  the  house  of  Chaillot,  "if  I 
leave  you,  what  will  you  do?  You  know  there 
is  no  one  in  this  great  Chateau  besides  Baptiste 
and  Annette." 

"Do,  my  good  Bertram?  As  I  did  before. 
If  you  are  away  you  will  have  naught  to  tell. 
Did  Baptiste  fasten  the  low  postern  after  you, 
and  take  the  key  of  the  west  stairway.  I  do  not 
think  that  Monsieur  Moreau  knows  of  this 
entrance — it  is  so  hid  by  the  vines  in  the  angle." 

"But,  Madame,  when  shall  I  see  you  again?" 

"When   Paris   is   more   settled:   when   I   no 

•longer  have  anything  to  fear.     Till  then,  take 

this,  to  pay  for  your  keep.     I  will  write  you. 

Never  forget,  Bertram,  that  Irene  de  Chaillot 

will  ever  remember  her  father's  trusty  retainer." 

With  exclamations  of  sorrow,  of  protest,  and 
of  thankfulness  for  the  well  filled  purse  she 
pressed  into  his  hand,  he  backed  from  the  room 


168  CONQUERORS  ALL 

with  as  much  reverence  as  though  she  were  a 
queen. 

A  few  hours  later,  as  the  watchman  was  call 
ing  through  the  Rue  de  Chaillot  the  hour  of 
twelve,  three  ghostly  figures,  arrayed  like 
Dominican  Friars,  crept  noiselessly  down  the 
broad  stairway.  Turning  to  the  left,  they  made 
their  way  into  a  low-ceiled  apartment  where, 
when  the  door  was  closed,  a  candle  was  lighted, 
and  by  its  dim  flicker  Madame  Moreau  pressed 
a  secret  spring.  A  sliding  door  shot  back. 
Motioning  to  Baptiste  and  Annette  to  enter 
with  their  parcels,  she  gave  a  searching  glance 
around.  Then  turning  she  looked  at  the  door 
by  which  they  had  come.  As  she  crossed  the 
threshold,  the  panel  fell  to  behind  her.  Step 
ping  to  the  opposite  corner  of  what  seemed  a 
high-walled  closet,  once  more  she  pressed  a 
secret  spring,  this  time  on  the  floor  and  presto ! 
up  flew  a  trap  door  so  cunningly  fashioned  that 
one  could  not  have  told  it  from  the  tiles  round 
about.  As  it  opened,  a  cold  damp  odor  met 
them,  causing  both  Annette  and  Baptiste  to 
tremble  with  fear.  This  they  tried  to  hide  from 
their  young  mistress.  It  was  with  many  a  qualm 
that  Baptiste,  carrying  a  lantern  to  protect  the 
lighted  candle  that  the  draft  of  air  might  not 
blow  it  out,  began  the  descent.  Annette  hesi 
tated  till  her  mistress  in  low,  stern  tones,  bade 
her  make  no  delay;  then  she  hastened  after 
Baptiste.  As  once  before,  Madame  Moreau 
fastened  the  slide;  then  quickly  joined  the  others 


THE  FLIGHT  169 

in  the  low  vaulted  chamber.  Taking  the  lan 
tern  from  Baptiste,  she  said  impressively: 

"Remember,  not  a  word,  not  a  sound!  Keep 
close  to  me.  And,  Annette,  if  a  rat  should  run 
across  your  path,  do  not  scream,  for  if  you 
should,  it  might  mean  the  death  of  all  three !" 

Without  another  word  and  flashing  the  lan 
tern  constantly  before  her,  she  pressed  forward, 
going  boldly  ahead  into  the  darkness,  turn 
ing  first  this  corner,  then  that — to  the  right, 
to  the  left.  Round  first  one  sharp  angle,  then 
another,  followed  by  Baptiste  and  Annette. 
More  than  once,  as  they  stooped  low,  great 
drops  of  water  fell  upon  them.  They  heard 
strange  noises,  loud  rumblings,  the  scuttling  of 
rats  in  droves.  Baptiste  and  Annette  saw 
ghostly  shadows.  They  were  so  terrified  that 
they  clung  desperately  to  each  other.  But 
Madame  Moreau,  undaunted,  unswerving,  per 
sistent,  heeding  neither  the  weird  sounds,  the 
roughness  of  the  way,  nor  the  dampness,  pushed 
onward.  For  hours,  as  it  seemed  to  Annette 
and  Baptiste,  they  hurried  on,  with  limbs  shak 
ing,  teeth  chattering,  not  daring  to  look  about 
them  lest  they  see  some  hideous  shape  looming 
up  in  the  gloom. 

Twice,  thrice,  Madame  Moreau  heard 
coarse,  harsh,  brutal  voices;  men's  voices,  wom 
en's  as  well  as  men's,  foul  birds  of  the  night. 
Still  she  went  steadily  on,  without  hesitation, 
without  question,  without  even  a  word,  oft- 
times  smelling  vile  odors,  stepping  into  loath 
some  puddles,  straight  to  her  goal.  Taking 


170  CONQUERORS  ALL 

from  her  pocket  a  key,  as  she  neared  a  small 
door  similar  to  that  through  which  they  had 
passed  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  bade  Bap- 
tiste  hold  up  the  lantern.  Glancing  at  its  num 
ber,  wrought  in  curious  Roman  figures  high  up 
on  the  lintel,  she  said  brightly: 

Pluck  up  courage,  mes  enfants,  soon  we  shall 
be  in  safety!" 

With  some  difficulty  she  unlocked  the  door. 
Lo !  before  her  was  another  stairway  like  that 
which  had  led  from  the  Chateau  de  Chaillot. 
Again  she  saw  to  the  fastenings,  then  mounted 
the  stairs,  Baptiste  and  Annette  keeping  close  at 
her  heels.  Arriving  at  a  small  landing  at  the 
head  of  the  flight,  she  rapped  thrice,  then  thrice 
again,  and  yet  once  more,  repeating  the  three 
sharp  blows  made  by  the  key  on  the  massive 
oaken  door,  iron-clamped,  before  her.  Scarcely 
had  she  withdrawn  her  hand  when  it  flew  open 
and  there,  smiling,  urbane,  stood  her  friend, 
Juvenal  des  Ursins.  Near  him  was  Jean. 

"My  child,  my  child!"  he  cried,  drawing  her 
into  the  oak-wainscotted  room  with  tender  fath 
erly  hands.  "To  think  you  should  have  come 
such  a  distance  through  that  terrible  place 
alone.  Had  I  not  feared  we  might  pass  each 
other  I  would  have  made  haste  to  meet  you. 
Did  you  meet  with  trouble  by  the  way?" 

"No,  kind  friend:  but  I  should  not  care  to 
take  a  nightly  stroll  through  these  desolate 
quarries  as  a  pleasure !  Where  did  Jean  meet 
you?  Hark!  what  is  that  clamor?  Did  you 


THE  FLIGHT  171 

not  hear  a  loud  knocking — although  to  be  sure 
it  sounds  muffled  here.  I  trust  that  no  harm  will 
befall  you  on  my  account." 

"No,  my  child,  no.  Do  not  alarm  yourself. 
Sit  down  and  rest  and  take  some  refreshment. 
Jean  will  attend  you  while  I  ascertain  the  cause 
of  all  this  noise.  Sit  down !  and  feel  no  fear  for 
me.  Who  would  dare  injure  the  King's  advo 
cate-general  in  his  own  house,  with  his  lackeys 
about  him?  I  will  be  back  anon,  but  while  I 
am  gone,  rest  undisturbed.  Here  you  are  in 
safety!" 

It  was  not  long  before  Juvenal  des  Ursins 
returned,  saying  as  he  closed  behind  him  the 
heavy  oaken  door,  which  shut  with  a  loud  snap : 

"I  did  inwardly  smile,  ma  chere  amie,  when 
I  found  the  cause  of  the  dm.  Who  should  be 
standing  at  the  portal  but  a  lackey  in  the  livery 
of  Burgundy.  Behind  him  were  a  dozen  knaves, 
all  grinning.  Handing  me  a  packet  from  his 
lord,  he  made  me  haste  to  the  hotel  d'Artois, 
where  Due  John  awaits  me.  I  have  tarried 
before  obeying  the  summons  that  I  might  open 
a  secret  panel  to  what  is  called  the  'Queen's 
Cabinet.'  There  you  will  find  a  comfortable 
bed.  When  you  have  closed  the  door,  no  one 
but  myself  can  open  it  from  the  outside." 

Crossing  to  the  chimney,  he  ran  his  fingers 
lightly  for  a  foot  or  more,  along  the  edge  of 
the  cornice.  Then,  as  with  a  quick  movement, 
he  pressed  one  spot  more  firmly  than  the  rest. 
A  piece  of  the  panel  opened,  disclosing  a  com 
fortable  room  about  fourteen  feet  square,  fur- 


172  CONQUERORS  ALL 

nished  with  a  table,  two  chairs,  a  canopied  bed, 
a  silver  ewer  filled  with  water  and  a  basin.  Near 
the  hearth  lay  piles  of  fagots.  Turning  to 
Jean,  he  said: 

"Build  a  fire  for  your  lady,  and  carry  these 
refreshments  to  the  table  yonder." 
Then  to  Madame  Moreau  smilingly: 
"Enter,  my  daughter!  Feel  no  misgiving. 
You  are  as  safe  here,  yes,  more  safe,  than  if 
you  were  concealed  in  any  convent  in  France, 
Sleep,  and  may  the  bon  Dieu  and  his  minister 
ing  angels  keep  you  in  His  watchful  care.  On 
the  morrow  we  will  talk,  but  now,  bon  soir! 
You  Jean  and  Baptiste,  stay  in  this  outer  cham 
ber  and,  no  matter  who  doth  come  rapping  at 
the  door,  speak  not  a  word :  answer  not  a  call ! 
I  do  not  think  you  will  be  troubled,  for  but  one 
other  besides  myself  knows  of  this  room.  Once 
more,  ma  chere,  bon  soir!" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET" 

"This  is  hard  and  undeserved  measure." 

— All's  Well  That  Ends  Well. 

When  the  fire  was  lighted  Madame  Moreau 
said  to  Jean  with  an  effort  at  cheerfulness : 

"You  need  not  awaken  poor  Baptiste  too 
early.  He  has  had  a  sore  strain  this  night  and 
I  misdoubt  if  he  would  care  to  travel  that  road 
again.  Would  you,  Baptiste?" 

"No,  my  lady,  not  I!  But,  Madame,  you 
saw  how  I  took  care  of  Annette,  who  was  in 
constant  fear  of  her  shadow?" 

"And  what  were  you  ?"  cried  Annette.  "You 
trembled  and  shook  and  your  hands  were  as 
cold  as  any  old  woman's  with  the  megrimes  I" 

"There,  there!"  exclaimed  Jean.  "Do  you 
not  see  that  our  lady  is  tired?  She  is  too  kind, 
too  forbearing,  too  patient  with  your  chatter. 
At  times  you  seem  to  forget  that  Madame 
Moreau  is  the  Marquise  de  Chaillot!" 

"Jean,  do  not  chide  them.  They  are  but  des 
enfants,  meaning  well  and  faithful.  If  they  are 
not  as  strong  and  dependable  as  you,  I  am  cer 
tain  they  are  loyal  to  their  mistress." 

As  Madame  Moreau  half  sat,  half  reclined 
on  a  low  divan  while  her  handmaiden  with  a 
slow,  loving  touch,  brushed  out  her  purplish 

173 


174  CONQUERORS  ALL 

masses  of  hair,  her  thoughts  went  back  to 
her  interview  with  Monsieur  Moreau.  A  smile, 
half  scornful,  half  mirthful,  flitted  over  her  face, 
only  to  leave  it  grave  and  sad.  Later,  as  her 
head  rested  on  the  pillow  in  the  darkness,  she 
drew  from  her  bosom  a  fine  gold  chain  on  which 
was  suspended  a  broad  signet  ring,  a  man's  ring. 
Carved  deep  on  the  brilliant  emerald  was  the 
crest  of  Wotton.  Pressing  her  lips  caressingly 
upon  it,  her  face  the  while  suffused  with  a  deep 
blush,  she  murmured  to  herself,  "I  could  not  do 
this,  if  I—" 

At  that  moment,  Annette's  query  as  to 
whether  she  needed  anything  more  for  the 
night,  interrupted  her  flow  of  thought.  Quickly 
returning  to  its  resting  place  over  her  heart  the 
heirloom  which  the  Earl  in  his  haste  had  left  at 
The  Silver  Moon,  she  replied  kindly: 

"No,  Annette,  I  need  nothing.  Prithee,  go 
to  your  rest." 

Madame  Moreau,  waking  suddenly  out  of  a 
sound  sleep  and  seeing  the  straggling  gleams  of 
sunshine  which  came  through  two  narrow  slits 
high  in  the  thick  wall,  thought  it  morning. 
While  she  lay  dreamily  thinking,  the  light 
changed  to  a  flood  of  golden  radiance.  Noth 
ing  broke  the  intense  stillness  but  Annette's  reg 
ular  breathing.  Madame  Moreau,  as  she 
watched  the  health-giving  beams  fade  from  her 
sight,  had  taken  no  account  of  time,  but  at  last, 
feeling  a  tang  of  hunger,  she  aroused  Annette. 

There  was  a  chilly  dampness  in  the  room 
which  was  soon  dispelled  when  her  handmaiden 


THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET"  175 

relighted  the  fire.  Neither  perceived,  when 
breakfast  was  over  that,  in  place  of  the  sun, 
there  shone  through  the  narrow  openings  the 
soft  silvery  sheen  of  the  queen  of  night.  Annette 
who  was  busily  tidying  the  room,  suddenly 
exclaimed : 

"Why,  Madame  Moreau,  just  look!  Is  not 
that  the  moon?" 

Her  young  mistress  whose  glance  had  fol 
lowed  the  little  handmaiden's  outstretched 
finger,  saw  to  her  surprise  two  narrow  bands  of 
silver.  Then,  and  then  only,  did  she  fully  real 
ize  that  the  sun,  instead  of  rising,  had  been  set 
ting.  Then,  and  then  only,  did  the  thought 
come  to  her  that,  in  his  haste,  Juvenal  des 
Ursins  had  forgotten  to  show  her  the  secret 
spring!  Darting  from  her  chair,  she  closely 
examined  the  wall,  the  cornice  and  the  fret-work 
of  carving  which  encircled  each  panel,  at  the 
same  time  calling  upon  Annette  to  do  the  same. 
But  in  spite  of  their  care  to  press  every  spot  the 
conviction,  after  repeated  trials,  was  forced 
home  that  they  were  walled  in:  that  there  they 
must  remain  until  released  by  Juvenal  des 
Ursins. 

Madame  Moreau  began  to  question  his  long 
absence.  Surely  he  said  that  in  the  morning 
they  would  discuss  the  business  which  had 
brought  her  to  Paris?  Had  he  come  and,  find 
ing  her  asleep,  knowing  how  weary  she  must 
have  been,  left  her  to  slumber?  Yes,  that  must 
be  it!  Rapping  on  the  wall,  she  called  loudly: 

"Jean!    Jean!" 


176  CONQUERORS  ALL 

But  the  only  response  was  a  muffled,  uncertain 
echo.  She  strove  to  wait  with  what  patience 
she  could  for  her  release,  but  torturing  doubts 
which  she  endeavored  to  hide  from  Annette, 
assailed  her.  What  if  aught  should  have  hap 
pened  to  the  advocate-general?  What  if  this 
summons  from  the  duke  was  only  a  ruse  that  he 
might  be  murdered  as  had  been  the  king's 
brother?  What  if  he  had  been  waylaid  on  the 
street — stabbed  to  death  in  the  darkness? 
Mayhap  even  now  he  was  lying  unconscious, 
under  the  very  same  roof  with  herself ! 

What  should  she  do  if  he  should  not  come? 
Must  she  die  like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  slowly  starved 
to  death,  feeling  one  by  one  the  sands  of  life 
drift  away?  Or,  maddened  by  the  very  thought 
of  confinement,  would  she  be  tempted  to  kill 
both  herself  and  Annette?  Once  again  spring 
ing  to  her  feet,  she  walked  restlessly  to  and  fro. 
The  pretty  room  now  seemed  a  cage.  She 
caught  herself  chiding  Annette  as  she  turned 
some  water  into  the  basin,  crying:  "Do  not 
waste  that !  We  may  need  it  ere  long  to  quench 
our  thirst!" 

Then,  as  the  hours  passed,  the  moon,  dis 
appearing,  gave  way  to  the  dawn  which  peered 
in  with  ghostly  eyes,  reminding  her  that  another 
day  had  come.  She  wondered  if  their  meagre 
supply  of  food  would  hold  out  till  they  were 
released.  Annette,  spent  with  weeping,  lay 
asleep  where,  like  a  tired  child,  she  had  thrown 
herself  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  But  to 
Madame  Moreau,  torn  by  varied  emotions, 


THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET"  177 

with  eyes  staring  and  brain  reeling  with  incessant 
questioning,  came  no  such  blessed  relief.  She 
was  like  a  storm-tossed  ship,  buffeted,  crushed, 
beaten  for  the  time  by  a  great  tidal  wave  of 
despair,  borne  down,  down,  down,  till  exhausted 
and  spent  with  the  struggle,  all  seemed  lost. 

Hope,  the  handmaid  of  sorrow,  like  the 
change  of  wind  and  tide  that  saves  the  ship,  at 
last  uplifted,  strengthened,  buoyed  her  with  the 
promise  that  God's  deliverance  would  yet  be 
hers. 

Three  days  passed.  After  the  first  struggle, 
Madame  Moreau's  courageous  nature  resumed 
its  sway.  Although  for  the  last  eight  hours 
they  had  been  without  food,  her  courage,  her 
confidence,  her  reliance  on  the  Infinite  One, 
caused  her  to  say  to  Annette : 

"We  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,  mon 
enfant!  Each  of  us  still  has  a  tumbler  of 
water  with  which  to  quench  her  thirst!" 

During  these  days,  Jean  and  Baptiste  fared 
better  than  their  mistress.  Though  confined 
as  closely,  yet  their  room  was  much  larger. 
Then,  too,  Jean,  who  had  assisted  Juvenal  des 
Ursins  to  supply  the  tray  with  dried  fruits, 
wine  and  other  refreshments,  knew  that  in  the 
closet  close  at  hand  was  plenty  with  which  to 
appease  the  hunger  of  himself  and  Baptiste. 
Hearing  no  sound  from  the  cabinet  which 
Madame  Moreau  and  Annette  had  entered,  he, 
thinking  that  they  had  been  released  and  were 
no  doubt  safely  lodged  in  a  more  spacious  apart 
ment,  felt  no  disquiet.  Still  he  was  restless, 


178  CONQUERORS  ALL 

feeling  much  as  would  a  wild  animal  confined 
in  a  pen.  Although  unable  to  sleep  the  long 
hours  away,  as  did  Baptiste,  he  was  anxious  to 
serve  his  young  mistress.  On  the  fourth  even 
ing,  while  saying  to  Baptiste,  "I  would  give  a 
louis  d'or  for  a  breath  of  fresh  woodland  air," 
Jean  was  startled  by  the  first  sound  he  had 
heard  clearly  since  Madame  Moreau  closed  the 
panel.  It  was  a  sharp  clang,  followed  by  loud 
battering  and  incessant  rapping.  Baptiste  would 
have  cried  out,  but  with  an  imperative  gesture, 
Jean  bade  him  be  still.  The  rapping  continued; 
they  heard  muffled  voices  and  indistinct  foot 
steps.  It  was  a  full  hour  before  quiet  again 
reigned. 

"What  was  it,  Jean?"  anxiously  queried 
Baptiste,  whose  eyes  had  grown  big  with  fear. 
"Surely  it  was  not  Madame!" 

"Most  certainly  not,"  answered  Jean.  "Her 
room  is  at  the  right,  while  these  sounds  came 
from  the  corridor.  You  may  depend  on  it,  man, 
the  house  is  being  searched  by  Monsieur  Mo 
reau  and  his  minions." 

"What  for?"  asked  Baptiste. 

"Are  you  a  fool!"  exclaimed  Jean  angrily, 
though  in  a  guarded  voice.  "Why  did  our  mis 
tress  fly  from  the  Chateau  de  Chaillot  four 
nights  ago,  if  it  was  not  from  him — the  vilest 
wretch  that  was  ever  born,  even  though  he  be 
Madame's  husband." 

"But  how  happened  she  to  marry  him,  Jean, 
if  she  did  not  love  him?  He's  not  so  handsome, 
nor  rich,  nor  anything  else,  as  I  can  see  I" 


THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET"  179 

"Love!"  repeated  Jean  in  scorn.  "Love? 
a  brute  like  that!  What  are  you  thinking  of, 
man?  I  thought  every  one  knew  how  it  came 
about.  It's  no  secret.  Hearken :  these  walls 
may  have  ears — while  I  whisper  the  whole  black 
plot:  that  such  it  was  I  am  sure,  and  if  I  mistake 
not,  Queen  Isabel  had  a  finger  in  the  pie." 

"You  know,  Baptiste,  our  young  mistress  is 
a  ward  of  the  King,  and  was  a  maid-of-honor  at 
the  Court,  as  was  her  mother  before  her.  The 
Queen,  as  mayhap  you  are  aware,  hated  her 
son,  the  Dauphin,  and  every  one  he  felt  kindly 
toward.  It  was  said  that  he  loved  our  mistress. 
So  also,  it  was  said,  did  the  Duke  of  Orleans." 

"But  they  are  married!"  exclaimed  Baptiste. 

"What  difference  does  that  make  to  quality?" 
answered  Jean  sententiously.  "But  if  you  keep 
interrupting  me  you  will  never  hear  the  story. 
One  night,  in  the  Queen's  private  apartments, 
where  lords  and  ladies  were  in  waiting,  Queen 
Isabel  proposed  a  mock  marriage  and  suggested 
that  the  man  and  woman  who  should  draw  a 
slip  of  paper  with  the  word  'Hymen'  upon  it, 
should  be  the  ones  to  carry  out  her  marriage 
prank.  Our  lady,  the  Marquise  de  Chaillot, 
was  the  third  to  draw.  On  her  white  slip,  writ 
plain,  was  the  fatal  word. 

"The  Dauphin  and  Due  d'Orleans  were  pres 
ent,  but  much  to  their  disgust  were  unsuccessful 
in  drawing  the  mate  to  the  one  our  young  lady 
held.  When  reminded  they  were  already  mar 
ried,  it  was  said  each  laughingly  replied  that, 
as  it  was  all  a  jest,  they  were  quite  as  eligible 


180  CONQUERORS  ALL 

as  any  one  else.  Eight  different  lords  put  their 
fortunes  to  the  test,  so  I  heard,  with  no  better 
result.  Then  four  more  but  their  scraps  of 
paper,  like  the  others,  were  blank.  Monsieur 
Moreau  who,  as  you  know,  is  a  bastard — some 
say  the  son  of  Queen  Isabel  herself, — drew  the 
thirteenth.  Clearly  writ  on  his  slip  of  white 
paper  was  the  word  'Hymen.'  Our  dear  young 
lady  tried  to  beg  off,  but  Queen  Isabel  would 
not  hearken  to  her  entreaties;  instead,  she  made 
her  at  once  retire  and  return  in  bridal  raiment. 
A  half  hour  later,  without  one  glance  at  Mon 
sieur,  who  stood  beside  her,  she  went  through 
the  mock  service,  or  what  she  thought  was  that. 
But  after  the  ladies  present  and  the  lords-in- 
waiting  had  flocked  about  them  to  congratulate 
'the  happy  pair,'  Queen  Isabel  exclaimed  in  a 
loud  voice  that  every  one  might  hear,  'It  can 
not  be  possible,  Sir  Duke!'  It  was  to  Burgundy 
she  spoke.  'I  thought  him  a  novice !  Do  you 
mean  that  he  has  taken  holy  orders  ?'  Then  it 
came  out  that  the  brown-robed  Capuchin  was 
not,  as  the  Queen  had  led  all  to  believe,  one  who 
was  studying  for  the  priesthood  but,  in  spite  of 
his  youth,  had  been  for  two  years  a  monk! 
Then  it  was  that  our  lady  fainted.  She  was 
borne  to  her  chamber.  When  she  recovered  she 
barred  the  door  and  in  spite  of  the  Queen's 
urgent  summons,  kept  it  bolted. 

"Late  in  the  night  I  was  bidden  by  her  maid 
to  wait,  that  I  might  guide  them  to  this  very 
house.  Still  later,  I  went  with  her  through  the 
quarry  to  her  Chateau,  and  long  ere  any  one 


THE  "QUEEN'S  CABINET"  181 

had  dreamed  that  our  mistress  had  left  Paris, 
she  and  I  were  each  riding  a  swift  horse,  bound 
for  the  Loire. 

"You  know  the  rest — how,  after  a  month  at 
the  Chateau  she  took  you  and  Annette  into  her 
service,  and  how  ever  since  she  has  been  con 
stantly  changing  her  abode,  staying  but  a  few 
weeks  at  a  time,  first  here,  then  there,  lest  those 
who  search  for  her  should  find  her!" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

AN  ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  A  TIMELY 
RETURN 

"Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine." 

—Twelfth  Night. 

"Better  three  hours  too  soon  than  a  minute  too  late." 
— The  Merry   Wives  of  Windsor. 

Juvenal  des  Ursins,  after  opening  for  Ma 
dame  Moreau  the  secret  chamber,  hastened  to 
Hotel  d'Artois,  where  he  was  shown  into  a  low, 
narrow  room  on  the  ground  floor,  there  to 
await  the  duke's  pleasure.  So  absorbed  was  he 
in  thoughts  of  his  fair  young  friend  who  had 
come  to  him  for  professional  advice  under  such 
trying  circumstances,  that  he  took  no  note  of 
time.  It  was  not  until  he  heard  the  sound  of 
footsteps  in  the  great  hall,  the  clinking  of  spurs, 
and  voices  raised  in  anger,  that  he  became  con 
scious  that  the  gray  light  of  dawn  was  entering 
the  mullioned  window  near  him.  Starting  to 
his  feet,  he  exclaimed: 

"Ma  foil    Where  have  the  hours  flown  1" 

As  he  hesitated  whether  or  not  to  summon  a 
lackey,  the  door  was  thrown  violently  open  and 
the  Duke,  with  red  face  and  flashing  eyes,  strode 
across  the  threshold. 

"Ah,  ventre  Saint-Jean!  you  are  here  then. 
I  have  been  waiting  speech  with  you,  fretting 
and  fuming  to  think  you  did  not  come.  You 
182 


ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  TIMELY  RETURN    183 

have  doubtless  been  wondering  why,  since  I  sent 
for  you  in  such  haste,  you  should  be  kept  kick 
ing  your  heels  in  this  vault-like  ante-room." 

"No,  my  lord  Duke,"  replied  the  advocate- 
general  in  a  conciliatory  tone.  "On  the  con 
trary,  I  was  thinking  of  matters  apart  from  you, 
and  became  so  lost  in  reverie  that  I  failed  to 
mark  the  flight  of  time." 

"The  knave  who  brought  you  here,"  said  the 
Duke  with  an  expression  not  pleasant  to  behold, 
"has  forgot  to  his  cost.  But  enough  of  him! 
By  this  time  he  has  become  carrion! 

"I  have  matters  of  the  gravest  importance 
on  which  I  would  consult  you.  I  intended  doing 
so  before  leaving  Paris.  My  horse  is  at  the 
door,  my  troop  is  mounted,  and  as  the  matter 
cannot  be  postponed  I  see  no  other  way  to 
surmount  the  difficulty  than  that  you  ride  with 
me.  Ma  foil  old  man,  do  not  look  so  glum. 
You  need  go  but  a  day's  journey.  Perchance 
the  advice  that  I  seek  you  can  give  in  a  shorter 
time." 

"But,  my  lord  Duke!"  exclaimed  Juvenal  des 
Ursins  excitedly,  "it  is  impossible,  quite  impos 
sible  !  I  have  matters  that  demand  my  imme 
diate  attention." 

"Who  says  impossible  to  the  Duke  of  Bur 
gundy?  Fentrebleu!  Why,  man!  if  you  will 
not  accompany  me  of  your  own  free  will,  then 
you  shall  be  forced  to  it,  for  go  you  must!" 

"But  if  I  could  explain — "  cried  Juvenal  des 
Ursins,  in  great  agitation. 


184  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Explain,  explain!  That  is  just  what  I  want 
of  you,  man.  Come,  no  more  delay.  The 
quicker  we  take  to  the  road  the  more  speedy 
will  be  your  return." 

Without  waiting  longer — without  even  a 
glance  to  see  if  the  advocate-general  were  fol 
lowing,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  relentless,  resist 
less,  inexorable  as  fate,  returned  with  masterful 
tread  to  the  hall.  After  issuing  his  orders  in 
a  voice  loud  and  commanding,  he  turned  at  the 
iron-clamped  door  to  exclaim  imperatively: 

"There,  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  are  two  horses. 
Choose." 

"Needs  must  when  the  devil  drives,"  mut- 
teerd  the  advocate,  as  he  selected  a  roan,  broad- 
chested,  straight-limbed  and  slender  of  foot. 
There  was  a  quiet  twinkle  in  the  Duke's  eyes 
for,  although  these  words  had  not  been  intended 
for  his  ear,  he  had  overheard  them  and,  since 
he  was  having  his  own  way,  they  went  well  with 
his  humor.  Toward  the  Pont  Saint  Denis  rode 
the  troop.  As  they  passed  the  people  gave  way, 
shouting  loudly,  "Five  le  Burgundy!  Five  le 
Burgundy!" 

Our  old  friend,  with  bowed  head  and  gray 
locks  floating  in  the  breeze,  and  with  heart  sad 
and  dispirited,  was  being  torn  by  varied  emo 
tions.  His  thoughts  reverted  to  the  anxiety  of 
his  wife  and  Madame  Moreau.  He  was  thank 
ful,  at  least,  that  Jean  knew  of  the  cupboard 
which  contained  sufficient  to  sustain  life  until  his 
return.  Although  it  could  not  be  pleasant  to 
remain  cooped  in  such  close  quarters,  still  he 


ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  TIMELY  RETURN    185 

smiled  drily  at  the  thought,  "One  thing  is  cer 
tain.  Monsieur  Moreau  will  search  far  and 
wide  without  finding  the  white  dove  he  is  striv 
ing  to  ensnare!" 

He  had  forgotten  that,  in  his  haste,  he  had 
neglected  to  show  the  secret  spring  to  Madame 
Moreau. 

When  they  halted  at  noon  without  the  Duke 
having  even  mentioned  the  subject  which  had 
seemed  uppermost  in  his  mind,  he  mentally 
pictured  his  young  charge  disturbed,  restless 
perhaps,  yet  with  hunger  appeased,  impatiently 
awaiting  his  return. 

Night  came  and  still  they  pushed  forward, 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  silent,  morose,  unmind 
ful  of  the  distress  and  evident  anxiety  he  was 
causing  to  the  man  riding  by  his  side.  In  spite 
of  Juvenal  des  Ursins's  questioning,  protesting, 
he  was  borne  onward  by  a  force  unswerving, 
compelling,  irresistible.  Another  day  followed, 
similar  to  the  first;  still  not  a  word  on  the  part 
of  the  Duke  as  to  the  matter  which  he  had 
seemed  in  such  haste  to  have  explained. 

Three  days  and  three  nights  they  rode,  pay 
ing  scant  attention  to  the  beautiful  scenery  with 
its  promise  of  harvest  and  soft  russet  tints  of 
autumn.  Still  urgent,  taciturn,  untiring,  the 
Duke,  although  quick  to  observe  if  his  troop 
were  out  of  line,  apparently  gave  little  thought 
to  aught  but  his  own  plans.  His  face  seemed 
a  mask,  impenetrable.  At  times  when  some 
dominant  note  strove  for  expression,  a  vivid 
flash  would  come  to  his  eyes,  emitting  a  bhiish- 


186  CONQUERORS  ALL 

white  light  which  reminded  the  advocate-general 
of  forked  lightning,  darting  from  a  black  sul 
phurous  cloud. 

On  the  fourth  evening,  just  at  dusk,  they  ar 
rived  at  the  Castle  of  Aire  where  the  Duke's 
eldest  son,  Comte  Charolais,  resided.  Not  until 
Juvenal  des  Ursins  had  met  the  young  nobleman, 
noble  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  word,  was  he 
told  by  the  anxious  father,  Duke  John,  the 
pride  of  Burgundy,  why  he  had  been  forced  to 
leave  Paris. 

"You  see,"  said  the  Duke  as  a  gleam  of 
amusement  shot  from  his  eyes,  "that  the  devil 
needs  must!" 

Then,  marking  the  confusion  which  his  words 
had  produced,  he  added  in  a  voice  pregnant  with 
emotion : 

"When  I  die,  Philip,  the  Comte  of  Charo 
lais,  who  is  goodness  itself  and  even  more  brave 
than  his  father  who  has  been  dubbed  'The  Fear 
less,'  will  reign  over  the  Duchy  of  Burgundy. 
He  is  determined  to  take  part  in  this  battle 
which  the  Constable  will  press  on  the  English 
near  Agincourt.  I  have  not  forgot  the  fate  of 
King  John  and  have  no  intention  of  either  per 
mitting  the  Comte,  or  myself,  to  take  up  arms 
against  England — at  least  for  the  present.  It 
is  for  this  reason  I  brought  you  here,  that  you 
might  dissuade  him  from  his  insane  purpose." 

"But,  my  lord,"  expostulated  the  advocate, 
"surely  there  are  those  who  would  have  greater 
influence  with  the  Comte  of  Charolais  than 
myself." 


ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  TIMELY  RETURN    187 

"Perchance  so,"  replied  the  Duke  medita 
tively.  "I  know  he  greatly  admires  your  zeal, 
your  honesty,  your  undeviating  loyalty  to  the 
King  and  France.  What  press  of  affairs  have 
you  in  Paris  to  make  you  so  troubled?  Out 
with  it.  If  to  me  it  seems  more  urgent  than 
my  own,  I  will  send  you  hot  foot  over  the  road 
which  you  have  just  come !" 

For  a  moment  Juvenal  des  Ursins  hesitated, 
remembering  that  in  the  past  Duke  John  had 
not  sided  with  Monsieur  Moreau;  remember 
ing,  too,  that  he  was  no  party  to  this  plot  of 
the  Queen,  he  came  to  a  sudden  resolution. 
Striking  while  the  iron  was  yet  hot,  he  put 
certain  questions  to  the  Duke.  These  being 
answered  to  his  satisfaction,  he  explained  to  him 
his  present  situation  with  many  of  its  attendant 
circumstances. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  Duke  John  know 
ingly.  "Ha,  ha,  ha!  you  are  a  sly  fox.  That 
is  the  name  given  to  those  of  your  profession — 
a  sly  fox!  Here  has  the  Dauphin,  the  Due 
d'Orleans,  Monsieur  Moreau — even  Burgundy 
himself,  been  searching  France  over  for  this 
fair  dame,  and  you  knew  all  the  time  where  to 
find  her!" 

For  a  moment  as  the  advocate  recalled  to 
mind  the  Duke's  partiality  for  fair  women,  he 
feared  that  he  had  put  his  fair  young  charge 
in  the  Duke's  power,  that  peradventure  his 
words  might  be  the  means  of  slipping  the  jess 
from  this  proud  falcon,  whose  cruel  beak  and 
talons  might  be  the  very  ones  to  rend  and  tear 


188  CONQUERORS  ALL 

the  white  dove  he  was  striving  to  shield,  and 
his  heart  misgave  him.  On  second  thought, 
having  gone  so  far,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  grip 
firmly  the  two  horns  of  the  dilemma  by  telling 
the  Duke  all. 

"You  see,  my  lord,"  he  began,  endeavoring  to 
appear  calm,  "Madame  Moreau's  hiding-place 
is  of  my  own  devising.  Never  doubting  but 
that  I  should  see  her  the  next  morning,  I  left 
scanty  provisions.  The  fear  constantly  haunts 
me  that  they  will  not  hold  out." 

"Mow  Dieuf  man.  If  I  did  not  know  you,  I 
should  take  you  for  a  knave  or  a  fool !  Do  you 
think  I  would  have  dragged  you  from  Paris 
had  you  told  me?  Go  to  her:  this  very  hour 
if  you  wish.  Do  you  think  you  can  turn  back 
tonight?  If  so,  you  may  have  the  fleetest  horse 
in  my  stable,  with  a  score  of  lackeys  to  escort 
you  on  the  road.  Then,  perchance,  if  you  tell 
this  glorious  Psyche  that  I  would  never  have 
taken  you  from  Paris  had  I  dreamed  of  her 
peril,  she  will  forgive  my  discourtesy  and  keep 
a  warm  corner  in  her  heart  for  the  Due  de 
Burgundy!" 

Early  on  the  morning  of  October  26th,  the 
day  following  the  Battle  of  Agincourt,  Juvenal 
des  Ursins  arrived  in  Paris.  Driven  forward 
by  a  terrible  fear  lest  he  had  forgotten  to  show 
Madame  Moreau  how  to  open  the  panel,  he  had 
spared  neither  himself  nor  his  horses,  taking 
every  cross-road  so  as  to  shorten  the  distance. 
Excited,  fearful,  almost  distraught,  he  sprang 
from  the  saddle  at  his  own  door,  awakening  the 


ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  TIMELY  RETURN    189 

echoes  of  the  silent  street  by  loud  repeated 
knockings.  With  scarcely  a  word  to  the  attend 
ant  who,  with  eyes  half  opened,  admitted  him, 
he  rushed  down  the  main  hall,  across  the  corri 
dor,  down  a  flight  of  stairs  and  through  several 
rooms,  till  he  reached  the  door  he  had  fastened 
so  securely  behind  him  five  nights  before. 
Quickly  he  pressed  the  spring  and  pushed  back 
the  bolt.  Entering,  he  found  Jean  and  Baptiste 
so  fast  asleep  that  neither  was  aware  of  his 
presence.  Looking  about  him,  he  saw  that  the 
panel  was  closed! 

Shaking  Jean,  and  almost  screaming  in  his 
excitement,  he  cried: 

"Your  mistress,  man!  where  is  Madame 
Moreau?" 

Jean,  awakened  as  he  was  from  a  sound 
slumber,  rubbed  his  eyes  half  dazed,  uncertain 
at  first  who  was  speaking.  Then,  as  the  ques 
tion  was  repeated  in  a  voice  so  fraught  with 
fear  that  it  pierced  even  his  sleep-locked  senses, 
he  exclaimed  interrogatively: 

"My  mistress,  Madame  Moreau?  Is  she 
not  with  you,  Monsieur?" 

"No,  man!  dolt:  fool!  She  is  there!  Mon 
Dieuf  In  what  plight  shall  we  find  her!" 

Wasting  no  time  in  further  questioning,  Ju 
venal  des  Ursins  ran  frantically  to  the  chimney. 
With  reeling  brain  and  bated  breath,  his  fingers 
played  swiftly  up  and  down  on  the  secret  spring. 
A  loud  click,  and  the  panel  slid  back.  In  the 
meantime  Jean  had  lighted  two  candles,  his  fore 
thought  as  alert  as  that  of  the  advocate.  Press- 


190  CONQUERORS  ALL 

ing  the  tall  silver  candle-stick  into  the  hand  of 
the  trembling  old  man,  they  glanced  fearfully 
into  the  room. 

There,  on  the  floor  near  the  bed,  lay  Annette, 
pallid  and  wasted.  Neither  dared  to  speak, 
scarcely  to  breathe,  as  they  stepped  into  the 
chamber.  When  the  light  fell  on  the  bed  it 
revealed  Madame  Moreau,  bolstered  high  with 
pillows,  her  former  clear  brunette  complexion 
changed  to  a  greenish-yellow,  her  face  haggard 
and  drawn  with  suffering.  There  she  lay  so 
weak  and  exhausted  through  lack  of  food  and 
water  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  intense  bril 
liancy  of  her  eyes,  they  would  have  thought  by 
her  perfect  stillness  and  her  ashen  lips,  that  her 
inert  form  was  but  the  shell  from  which  the 
pure  soul  had  departed. 

When  Juvenal  des  Ursins  first  caught  sight 
of  her  his  candle  would  have  fallen  from  his 
nerveless  grasp  had  it  not  been  for  Jean  who, 
hastily  seizing  it  placed  it  upon  the  table.  Then, 
without  a  word  he  rushed  to  the  cupboard  in 
the  outer  room,  returning  with  a  tankard  of 
water  and  a  bottle  of  wine. 

Lifting  his  mistress's  head  tenderly  from  the 
pillow,  Jean  gently  poured  a  few  drops  of  the 
stimulating  liquid  into  her  half  open  mouth. 
Then,  pouring  some  into  his  hand  he  bathed  her 
face,  then  said,  somewhat  dictatorily  to  the 
advocate-general,  "Give  some  to  Annette  !"  But 
seeing  how  shaking  was  the  hand  outstretched 
for  the  bottle,  he  laid  his  mistress's  head  back 


ENFORCED  JOURNEY  AND  TIMELY  RETURN    191 

on  the  pillow  and  himself  filled  the  tankard, 
saying  encouragingly : 

"Drink,  monsieur:  you  are  worn  out  and 
nigh  spent!" 

As  he  stepped  back,  he  saw  a  grateful  expres 
sion  in  the  eyes  of  his  mistress  which  made  tears, 
their  course  all  unheeded,  roll  down  his  cheeks. 

"Dieu  mercif"  cried  Jean.    "She  will  live." 

"Power  of  God!"  fervently  responded  Ju 
venal  des  Ursins. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT 

"And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do, 
Noble  respect  takes  it  in  might,  not  merit." 

— A   Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

"My  mind  is  made  up,"  exclaimed  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  irritably.  "I  cannot  tarry  longer 
here,  Philip,  having  great  need  to  be  elsewhere. 
I  expect  you  to  remain  till  my  return.  Heed 
my  behest  and  take  no  side  against  the  Eng 
lish." 

"But,  Sire,  why  bid  me  stay  here  at  the  Castle 
of  Aire  with  my  government  as  if  I  were  but  a 
fledgling?  Can  you  not  see  what  it  would  cost 
me  to  play  the  coward's  part?" 

"Cost  you!"  cried  the  Duke  impatiently. 
"Are  you  not  a  Burgundian?  Have  you  no 
stomach  for  those  who  one  day  will  look  to 
you  to  rule  in  my  stead?  Do  you  suppose  your 
arm  can  stay  defeat?  As  true  as  you  have  a 
soul  to  save,  the  English  will  set  blood  flowing 
till  France  shall  mourn  her  dead  as  never 
before !  As  to  you  being  a  coward,  let  any 
man  dare  breathe  such  a  calumny  against  son 
of  mine,  and  he  shall  rue  the  day  that  his  mother 
bore  him!" 

The  next  morning  Duke  John  of  Burgundy 
rode  proudly  away  from  the  Castle  of  Aire, 
192 


THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT  193 

with  twice  the  following  he  had  brought  with 
him.  From  the  great  doorway,  Comte  Charo- 
lais  looked  forth  on  the  glittering  pageant  with 
sombre,  moody  expression,  and  heart  full  of 
rebellion.  Though  not  resigned  to  it,  he  still 
intended  to  obey  this  mandate  of  his  father. 
So  sheltered  had  been  his  short  life  that  he  knew 
naught  of  the  wiles,  the  deceit,  nor  the  licen 
tiousness  of  the  Court.  He  had  lived  more  as 
a  cloistered  nun  than  as  one  destined  to  become 
the  head  of  a  great  house.  Skilful  in  the  hand 
ling  of  arms,  quick  at  fence,  firm  of  seat  in  the 
saddle,  he  had  never  before  felt  the  desire  to 
leave  his  books  till  now  when  he  felt  convinced 
that  every  hand  should  strike  a  blow  for  France. 
One  by  one,  his  servants  left  him  to  take  part 
in  the  coming  fray.  He,  from  very  shame, 
locked  himself  in  his  room  where  he  spent  days 
and  nights  in  useless  repining  at  his  father's 
decision. 

When  the  news  reached  him  of  the  battle  of 
Agincourt  and  of  the  entire  route  of  the  French 
army,  his  grief  knew  no  bounds,  when  he 
thought  that,  had  it  not  been  for  his  father's 
bidding,  he  would  have  unsheathed  his  sword. 
Not  until  he  was  told  of  the  death  of  his  uncle, 
the  Duke  of  Brabant,  did  he  arouse  himself  to 
action.  Assembling  his  servants,  he  hastened 
to  the  field  that  he  might  care  for  the  wounded 
and  see  that  those  who  had  died  while  defend 
ing  the  honor  of  France,  were  suitably  interred. 
It  was  while  performing  this  sad  office  for  the 
dead  that  his  father  joined  him.  He,  too,  had 


194  CONQUERORS  ALL 

hastened  to  Agincourt  on  hearing  of  his  broth 
er's  sad  fate. 

After  the  Earl's  return  to  the  English  camp, 
the  night  before  the  battle,  Lady  Beatrice 
retired  to  her  chamber  where  on  her  knees, 
with  tears  pouring  like  rain  down  her  cheeks, 
she  prayed  not  only  for  her  father  whom  she 
so  dearly  loved,  and  the  King  whose  youth  and 
bravery  made  him  dear  to  every  English  heart, 
but  for  the  army  which,  though  depleted  by 
sickness  would,  she  felt  sure,  in  the  hour  of  trial 
prove  itself  pure  gold.  She  prayed,  too,  for 
old  Simon  and  Jock,  while  the  other  stout  yeo 
men  were  not  forgotten.  There  was  one  more — 
in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy — the  gallant  young 
Frenchman,  Comte  Raoul  d'Epernon  who,  had 
he  seen  her  then,  would  have  had  his  doubts 
dispelled. 

With  the  first  peep  of  dawn  she  rose  from 
her  knees  and  threw  her  narrow  casement  wide. 
Drawing  in  long  breaths  of  the  fresh  dewy  air, 
she  wondered  vaguely  when  the  battle  would 
begin  and,  as  though  in  answer,  from  the  dis 
tance  clear  and  resonant  came  the  trumpet  call 
of  the  English.  The  sun  rose,  climbing  higher 
and  higher.  So  intent  were  her  thoughts  on 
what  the  day  might  bring  that  she  gave  little 
heed  to  its  invigorating  rays.  Again  sounded 
the  clear  call  of  the  trumpet,  and  still  again, 
while  from  the  French  camp  she  could  even  hear 
the  tramping  of  horses,  the  champing  of  bits, 
mingled  with  voices  of  men  and  all  the  myster 
ious  sounds  that  attend  a  large  throng.  A  shiver 


THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT  195 

went  over  her :  she  trembled,  while  a  suspicious 
moisture  gathered  in  her  eyes.  Just  then  Bess, 
entering  with  her  breakfast,  exclaimed  excitedly : 
"Sit  down,  Lady  Beatrice.  You  will  see  enough 
before  the  day  is  out,  I  warrant.  Hugh  Brey- 
onne  said  that  the  battle  will  take  place  in  plain 
sight  of  the  Castle!" 

Her  young  mistress  scarcely  spared  time  to 
eat  the  boiled  egg  or  drink  the  mulled  wine,  so 
eager  was  she  to  learn  why  the  French  troop 
did  not  advance.  She  had  observed  the  three 
heralds  ride  to  the  English  camp  and  return. 
In  vain  did  she  make  inquiry  of  the  old  senes 
chal,  but  he  was  no  wiser  than  herself.  At 
midday,  the  English  host  made  the  first  over 
tures  of  battle.  In  its  centre,  aggressive, 
defiant,  flaunted  the  royal  banner  of  England, 
while  outspread  close  in  its  rear,  were  those  of 
Gloucester  and  Suffolk.  In  the  left  wing,  more 
prominent  than  those  of  the  Lords  about  it, 
was  that  of  York.  Then,  as  she  strained  her 
eyes  to  where  the  pennants  of  Warwick  and 
Westmoreland  were  floating,  she  saw  the  ban 
ner  of  Wotton  proudly  uplifted.  Her  heart 
swelled  with  pride.  For  the  moment,  in  her 
excitement  as  she  watched  the  archers  deploying 
to  the  right  and  left,  she  forgot  what  war  really 
meant. 

Late,  looking  forth  from  her  casement, 
shrinking,  fascinated,  horrified,  she  found  it  im 
possible  to  withdraw  her  gaze  from  the  frightful 
spectacle  before  her.  Her  interest  was  not 
confined  to  the  English  camp,  as  Bess  was  quick 


196  CONQUERORS  ALL 

to  observe.  When  the  superbly  mounted  French 
cavalry  made  its  charge,  Lady  Beatrice  ex 
claimed  in  a  tone  of  triumph : 

"See,  Bess,  see!  There  are  the  d'Epernon 
colors.  There  is  the  Comte.  Look  at  him ! 
Have  you  thus  far  seen  a  braver  deed  than 
that?" 

"My  eyes  are  not  on  the  French  but  with 
the  English!"  replied  Bess  with  a  toss  of  her 
head.  "You  did  not  notice  Robert  of  Der- 
water  as  he  ran  to  the  King's  side." 

"To  the  King!"  exclaimed  Lady  Beatrice  in 
astonishment.  "To  the  King?" 

"Yes,  my  lady;  and  there  goes  your  father 
followed  by  Aleck,  bearing  the  Wotton  colors, 
with  old  Simon  and  Jock !  See  the  crowd  about 
King  Hal.  Would  we  were  there  to  learn  what 
the  coil  is  all  about!" 

"Thank  goodness  we  are  not!"  replied  her 
mistress,  shuddering.  As  the  battle  waged  more 
and  more  fiercely  and  the  struggling  mass  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  Castle,  the  sights  be 
came  so  horrible  that  Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess 
were  glad  to  close  the  casement  and  put  their 
hands  to  their  ears  to  shut  out  the  screams  of 
the  horses,  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  and 
the  shrieks  of  the  dying.  As  the  afternoon 
waned  and  the  rout  of  the  French  army  denoted 
their  defeat,  Lady  Beatrice  at  heart  could  not 
rejoice,  though  she  kept  saying  to  herself,  "The 
English  arms  are  victorious !  The  King  has 
conquered!" 


THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT  197 

It  may  have  been  the  strain  of  the  night 
before  or  the  prolonged  anxiety  of  the  day 
which,  as  she  crossed  her  chamber  made  her 
knees  tremble — a  sensation  strange  to  her  young 
life  stole  over  her,  and  without  understanding 
what  it  portended,  she  fainted.  An  hour  later, 
when  she  heard  Bess  weeping  piteously  in  the 
court-yard,  although  she  knew  it  was  filled  with 
ghastly  sights  she  did  not  shrink,  but  hastened 
to  her.  It  was  while  standing  beside  Robert 
of  Derwater,  looking  down  on  his  dead  face, 
that  her  father  saw  her.  She  was  so  intent  in 
her  efforts  to  console  Bess  that  she  had  failed 
to  notice  Saladin  or  his  burden  till  a  plaintive 
whinny  attracted  her  attention.  Her  heart  beat 
with  tumultuous  gladness  when  she  -saw  her 
father  safe  and  well.  But  when  she  recognized 
the  Count's  limp  form,  his  blood-stained  clothes, 
as  he  was  being  carried  into  the  great  hall  of 
the  Castle,  once  more  there  stole  over  her  a 
feeling  of  faintness  from  which  she  quickly 
rallied,  as  she  thought,  "Perchance  I  can  be 
of  service!" 

Before  sunset  Henry  the  Fifth  knew  that  the 
field  was  won,  that  the  English  arms  were 
victorious.  As  at  Poitiers  and  Crecy,  the  ban 
ner  of  England  waved  once  again  proudly,  tri 
umphant.  The  King,  before  dusk,  called  some 
of  his  lords  to  him,  among  them  the  Earl  of 
Wotton,  to  attend  him  on  his  search  upon  the 
battlefield  for  the  Earl  of  Sussex.  It  was  then 
that  Beatrice's  father,  attended  by  Simon,  found 
the  Comte  d'Epernon.  The  self-deputed  sen- 


198  CONQUERORS  ALL 

tinel,  the  gallant  Saladin,  evidently  recognized 
Ajax,  for  he  whinnied  shrilly.  Quickly  dis 
mounting,  the  Earl  hastened  to  the  Comte. 
Stripping  open  his  shirt  he  put  his  ear  to  the 
Comte's  heart  to  see  if  there  were  signs  of  life. 
Simon  assisted  the  Earl  to  place  the  wounded 
Comte  upon  the  back  of  the  faithful  horse. 
Saladin  bore  his  lord  slowly  to  the  Castle  of 
Agincourt. 

The  Earl  of  Wotton  was  not  prepared  for 
the  sight  that  met  him  in  the  stone  court-yard. 
He  was  intent  on  seeing  that  the  Count  was 
lifted  carefully  from  the  back  of  his  faithful 
horse,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  loud  wailing 
of  Bess,  his  attention  would  not  have  been 
attracted  to  the  presence  of  his  daughter.  With 
a  final  order  to  Simon,  he  turned  to  see  the 
brave  Captain  of  Archers,  Robert  of  Derwater, 
stretched  upon  a  stone  bench.  Calmly  and  peace 
fully,  the  cold  majesty  of  death  was  imprinted 
upon  the  gallant  yeoman's  face.  His  blood 
stained  garments  told  their  own  sad  story. 

Henry  V.  had  already  made  preparations  for 
his  march  to  Calais.  The  Earl  had  decided 
to  leave  Beatrice  with  the  Duchess  until  such 
time  as  the  King  should  sail  for  England.  It 
was  the  Earl's  intention  to  meet  the  Duchess 
and  Lady  Beatrice  in  Paris.  This  morning  he 
had  called  to  say  farewell,  and  was  standing 
by  the  bedside  of  the  Count,  who  lay  pale,  weak 
and  exhausted  from  loss  of  blood,  yet  conscious 
of  all  that  was  taking  place  around  him.  The 
Earl  was  telling  him  of  his  plans.  The  Count, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  AGINCOURT  199 

more  with  his  eyes  than  by  words,  asked  his 
permission  to  speak  of  his  love  to  Lady  Bea 
trice.  The  Earl  replied  smiling: 

"Patience,  my  dear  Count,  patience!  Get 
well  of  your  wounds  that  you  may  take  charge 
of  the  Duchess  and  my  daughter  on  their  way 
to  Paris.  Then  we  will  decide  our  next  course. 
I  do  not  forbid  you  loving  Lady  Beatrice,  nor 
could  I  if  I  would  restrain  your  eyes  from 
telling  her.  But  I  shall  depend  on  your  honor 
to  stay  your  speech  till  such  time  as  I  give  you 
permission." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS 

"Sometimes  from  her  eyes 
I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages." 
—The   Merchant   of    Venice. 

On  a  raw  chilly  day  in  November,  two  weeks 
after  the  battle  of  Agincourt,  Lady  Beatrice, 
well  wrapped  in  a  fur-lined  pelisse  to  keep  out 
the  northeast  winds,  was  walking  on  the  broad 
battlements  of  the  castle.  Bess,  who  had  joined 
her  with  listless  step  and  heavy  eyes,  showed 
plainly  that  the  death  of  Robert  of  Derwater 
had  left  for  the  time  being,  a  strong  impression 
on  her  volatile  nature.  As  she  looked  forth 
on  the  great  mounds  of  earth  where  the  dead 
lay  in  their  last  resting-place,  Lady  Beatrice 
said  sadly: 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  get  away  from  here.  All 
the  beauty  of  the  landscape  is  marred  by  those 
great  hillocks,  which  are  constant  reminders  of 
the  fearful  sights  of  that  never  to  be  forgotten 
day.  Even  the  sky  has  a  sad  and  sombre  look 
as  though  all  its  brightness  had  been  washed 
out  by  tears — that  blessed  rain  which  cleansed 
away  those  dreadful  stains,  that  made  me  shud 
der  whenever  I  looked  from  my  casement." 

"Ay,"  said  Bess;  "when  I  heard  it  falling 
the  other  night  I  was  thankful !  You  will  be 
200 


THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS  201 

glad  to  hear  that  my  patients  are  better.  This 
morning  Edward  of  Brentwood  walked  across 
the  chamber,  and  when  I  was  setting  out  his 
breakfast,  he  said  blithely,  'In  a  week's  time, 
I  shall  be  ready  to  ride  with  my  cousin  to 
Paris.'  Do  you  know,  Lady  Beatrice,  if  Simon 
and  Jock  will  come  with  the  Earl?" 

"I  know  not  for  certain,"  replied  her  young 
mistress  with  the  ghost  of  a  smile  in  her  eyes. 
"Yet  I  should  not  wonder  if  they  did.  Would 
you  be  glad  to  see  old  Simon?" 

"Yes,  and  his  son  Jock  as  well.  You  need 
not  think  because  it  would  be  pleasant  to  see 
Jock,  that  I  can  forget!  When  you  are  sore 
at  heart  it  is  restful  to  have  one  near  whom  you 
know  loves  you  better  than  you  deserve.  Jock 
is  a  good  lad!" 

"What  do  you  think,  Bess,  of  the  Count? 
Does  he  improve?  I  wish  I  were  like  you,  then 
I  could  see  for  myself !  If  my  father  were  here, 
I  am  sure  he  would  not  oppose  me.  Did  you 
not  say  he  was  dressed  and  about  his  room?" 

"Yes,  my  lady,  these  two  days  or  more,  and 
he  is  as  worried  to  get  a  sight  at  you  as  a  hen 
whose  brood  of  ducks  hath  gone  into  the  water; 
leastwise,  the  leech  says  that  if  he  would  be 
calmer  and  more  reasonable,  his  wound  would 
heal  the  faster.  But  yesterday  evening  when  1 
was  lighting  his  candles,  he  did  ask  so  suddenly, 
'How  is  your  mistress?'  that  I  came  nigh  drop 
ping  the  red  coal  from  the  tongs.  Then  as  it 
flared  up,  he  said  anxious-like,  'This  morning 
I  saw  her  from  my  window.  To  me  she  looked 


202  CONQUERORS  ALL 

pale,  as  though  she  were  ill.  Is  your  mistress 
pining  to  see  her  father?  Methinks  he  will 
reach  Paris  before  the  week  is  out,  and  no 
doubt  Lady  Beatrice  desires  to  be  gone  from 
the  Castle  of  Agincourt.  Here  am  I,  coddled 
as  any  old  woman,  confined  like  a  bird  in  a 
cage,  keeping  her,  because  forsooth,  I  have 
what  the  leech  calls  fever!  As  though  it  were 
not  enough  to  make  one  have  all  kinds  of  ail 
ments  shut  out  from  the  air,  from  exercise,  from 
— but,  bonne  foif  What  is  the  use  of  com 
plaining?  Tomorrow,  if  the  day  be  fine,  I  shall 
take  the  law  into  my  own  hands  and  meet  your 
lady  and  you  on  the  battlements.  Methinks  a 
walk  in  the  fresh  air  would  strengthen  me.'  " 

Not  that  day  nor  the  next,  nor  for  a  week,  did 
the  Count  take  the  stroll  he  had  planned.  One 
morning  when  the  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
Lady  Beatrice  came  upon  him  unexpectedly  in 
the  sheltered  nook  where  so  many  weeks  before 
she  had  found  Bess  talking  with  Jock.  Her 
surprise,  her  amazement  and  her  pleasure  were 
so  great  that  they  set  her  heart  beating  wildly, 
bringing  a  dewy  softness  to  her  eyes,  and  a 
bright  glow  of  color  to  her  cheeks.  The  Count 
who,  all  unobserved,  had  watched  her  approach, 
thought  he  had  never  seen  so  stately,  so  glor 
iously  beautiful  a  woman.  The  sun  formed  a 
nimbus  around  the  red-gold  of  her  hair.  Her 
face  had  lost  some  of  its  roundness  and  wore 
a  sad  pensive  expression  in  place  of  the  merry 
smile  which  his  memory  had  treasured.  There 


THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS  203 

was  a  womanly  grace,  a  tenderness,  a  glimpse 
as  it  were  into  the  very  depths  of  her  nature, 
such  as  he  had  not  caught  before. 

"You  here!"  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  both 
voice  and  glance  unwittingly  revealing  the  secret 
of  her  heart. 

"Yes,  mademoiselle.  It's  full  time  I  was 
stirring!  Are  you  glad  to  see  such  a  poor 
wraith  as  myself?" 

"Glad!"  she  repeated,  her  tone  unconsciously 
conveying  a  tender  protest.  "Do  you  think  that 
one  of  the  House  of  Wotton  could  forget  a 
friend  so  readily?  If  this  be  your  opinion,  then 
perchance  you  have  deemed  me  merely  an  ac 
quaintance  !  But  mayhap  you  have  matters  of 
graver  moment  to  occupy  your  thoughts." 

The  Count,  though  inwardly  elated  at  the 
fleeting  glimpse  of  love  in  her  beautiful  eyes, 
was  still  determined  to  hold  himself  in  check, 
feeling  that  this  was  not  the  time  nor  place  to 
give  expression  to  that  which  was  more  sacred 
to  him  than  life  itself.  So  he  asked  irrelevantly : 

"When  will  you  and  the  Duchess  be  able, 
mademoiselle,  to  start  for  Paris?" 

Stung  by  what  she  supposed  his  indifference, 
Lady  Beatrice  replied  with  assumed  nonchal 
ance: 

"Any  time,  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Epernon, 
that  your  health  will  permit.  I  have  been  ready 
for  at  least  ten  days,  but  as  it  was  my  father's 
wish  that  grandmere  and  I  should  go  to  Paris 
with  you  as  our  escort,  and  as  the  Duchess  de 


204  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Berry  is  in  no  haste  to  depart,  what  was  there 
left  but  to  coax  patience  to  abide  with  me?" 

It  was  a  full  week  later  before  the  leech  would 
permit  either  of  his  patients  to  travel.  Although 
well  near  the  middle  of  the  month,  for  once 
November  was  smiling.  She  had  put  off  her 
grey  robes,  her  chilliness,  her  look  of  desola 
tion,  to  deck  herself  in  a  gay  mantle  of  purest 
azure,  overshot  with  gold.  Mild  as  a  summer 
breeze  came  the  spice-laden  air  from  the  forest. 
The  trees  rustled  their  adieux  in  a  soft  minor 
tone,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  sad  mementoes 
of  the  battle,  one  might  have  thought  it  a 
hideous  dream. 

Lady  Beatrice  looked  very  fair  to  the  eyes 
of  the  Count  as,  with  daintily  shod  feet  she 
tripped  lightly  up  the  steps  of  the  high-swinging, 
commodious  coach.  The  Count  had  offered  to 
assist  her  but  she,  with  a  merry  backward  glance 
over  her  shoulder,  had  waved  him  off.  The  day 
before,  in  speaking  to  the  Count  of  this  stately 
vehicle  which  bore  the  de  Berry  coat-of-arms, 
she  had  said  mischievously  that  it  reminded  her 
of  Noah's  ark,  yet  for  the  time  it  was  a  very 
comfortable  conveyance  as,  long  before  reach 
ing  Paris,  she  was  glad  to  admit.  The  Duchess 
sat  in  state  on  the  back  seat,  with  all  the  appur 
tenances  of  her  journey  about  her;  but  when 
she  would  have  made  room  for  Lady  Beatrice 
by  her  side,  this  perverse  young  maiden  said 
with  a  smile  and  a  gentle  wave  of  her  hand : 

"No,  grandmere,  I  am  robust,  strong  and 
well.  'Twill  not  hurt  Bess  and  me  to  sit  with 


THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS  205 

our  backs  to  the  coachman.  There  are  the 
Count  and  Edward,  just  arisen  as  it  were  from 
the  dead.  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  them 
to  sit  on  either  side  of  you :  thus  shall  I  be  able 
to  note  whether  or  not  they  grow  more  pale 
and  have  need  of  a  cordial  or  aught  to  keep 
them  from  fainting." 

In  spite  of  every  protestation,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head  that  even  Bess  in  her  sauciest  moods 
could  never  have  attained,  she  took  her  seat, 
back  to  the  horses. 

Twenty  men-at-arms  were  to  act  as  escort. 
Seated  in  the  great  rumble  were  the  Duchess's 
two  maids  and  footman.  On  the  box  with 
Pierre  was  Monsieur  Deroache,  the  private 
chaplain  of  the  Duchess.  He  had  been  pressed 
to  sit  within,  but  preferred  riding  where  he 
could  read  his  breviary  undisturbed  by  the 
merry  chatter  of  Lady  Beatrice.  On  finding 
that  he  was  not  to  occupy  a  seat  in  the  coach, 
Lady  Beatrice  had  asked  permission  of  the 
Duchess  to  have  Bess  sit  beside  her,  saying  with 
eyes  moist  with  sympathetic  tears : 

"You  see,  grandmere,  she  has  passed  through 
a  heavy  sorrow,  and  depends  on  me  to  keep  her 
from  thinking  to  her  hurt." 

They  had  taken  farewell  of  the  Countess  in 
the  great  hall,  not  without  emotion  on  the  part 
of  Lady  Beatrice  who  had  insisted  on  the  Coun 
tess  promising  to  visit  her  at  Wotton.  Follow 
ing  the  maids  and  the  footman,  led  by  three 
grooms,  were  Spitfire  and  Saladin,  prancing  and 
whinnying,  as  though  in  recognition  of  their 


206  CONQUERORS  ALL 

mistress  and  master.  With  them  was  the  bay, 
dear  to  the  heart  of  Edward  of  Brentwood,  and 
the  gray  genet  which  Bess  always  rode.  They 
were  bridled  and  saddled,  Lady  Beatrice  having 
declared  that  from  time  to  time  on  their  journey, 
she  and  Bess  must  have  at  least  a  canter. 

Crack  went  the  whip  of  the  coachman,  and 
the  six  horses  under  the  guidance  of  Pierre 
Lestrange,  strained  lustily  at  their  bits.  The 
harness  rattled,  the  leather  creaked.  Once  more 
Pierre  snapped  his  whip  loudly.  Then  with  a 
swerve  and  a  lurch,  a  simultaneous  quickening, 
the  cavalcade  was  in  motion. 

Wide  open  stood  the  gate.  The  portcullis 
was  lifted,  the  drawbridge  fell  into  place,  span 
ning  the  moat.  With  a  rumble  and  rattle,  like 
the  noise  of  distant  thunder,  the  great  coach 
lumbered  over  it.  Hugh  Breyonne,  the  gray- 
haired  seneschal,  the  warder  of  the  Castle  of 
Agincourt,  with  his  stout  serving-men  like 
statues  of  bronze,  shouted  after  them,  "Bonne 
fortune!"  and  "Bon  jour!"  Lady  Beatrice,  lean 
ing  out  of  the  coach  window,  waved  her  hand 
kerchief  in  parting  salutes  to  the  kind  old 
Frenchman  who  had  shown  her  marked  court 
esy  during  her  stay  with  his  lady.  Then,  as 
she  looked  her  farewell  at  the  rugged  fortress, 
its  turrets  and  towers,  its  high-lifted  battle 
ments,  with  the  sun  turning  to  gold  its  portcullis 
and  softening  the  rough  outline  of  the  great 
mounds  of  earth  which  covered  the  dead,  an 
expression  of  deep  sadness,  not  unlike  a  dusky 


THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS  207 

shadow,  stole  for  the  moment  all  the  brightness 
from  her  face. 

The  first  two  days  of  their  journey  were 
uneventful.  The  strength  of  both  the  Count 
and  Edward  de  Brentwood  was  sorely  taxed. 
They  were  glad  each  night  to  retire  early,  even 
though  the  beds  at  the  inns  were  not  as  com 
fortable  as  those  at  the  Castle.  The  third  morn 
ing,  after  driving  a  short  distance,  Lady  Bea 
trice  exclaimed: 

"The  day  is  so  fine  that  when  we  have  had 
our  noonday  meal,  Bess  and  I  are  going  to  take 
a  gallop." 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  the  Count  with  a 
glance  in  his  eye  which  made  her  lids  droop, 
"that  Monsieur  Brentwood  and  I  will  permit 
you  to  ride  unescorted  in  such  lawless  times  as 
these?" 

"No,  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  exclaimed  the 
Duchess,  with  a  look  at  her  charge  as  much  as 
to  say,  'Had  you  been  brought  up  in  France, 
you  would  not  be  so  free  in  your  speech  or 
demeanor' ;  "to  my  mind  it  is  unbecoming  in 
one  of  your  rank  to  ride  unescorted.  You 
should  have  a  younger  chaperone  than  I  who 
could  follow  your  whimseys.  To  me  it  seems 
passing  strange  that  your  father  permitted  you 
to  come  from  home  without  a  gentlewoman  in 
attendance!" 

"But,  grandmere,"  expostulated  Lady  Bea 
trice,  explaining  to  the  Duchess  for  the  twentieth 
time  at  least  why  she  had  come  from  Wotton 
alone,  "you  know  how  it  all  came  about,  and 


208  CONQUERORS  ALL 

would  you  rather  I  had  remained  in  England 
away  from  my  father,  at  such  a  trying  time  as 
I  have  just  been  through,  than  to  have  come  to 
you  under  the  care  of  such  faithful  guardians  as 
old  Simon  and  Bess?" 

"Perchance  not,"  replied  the  Duchess  grudg 
ingly.  "If  your  mother  had  been  living  she 
would  have  known  what  was  due  to  your  posi 
tion.  Your  father  should  have  married  again, 
and  not  striven  to  bring  you  up  without  suitable 
instruction  as  to  what  was  right  and  wrong  for 
the  grandchild  of  one  of  the  noblest  houses  of 
France." 

For  a  moment  the  bright  color  stole  to  the 
very  roots  of  Lady  Beatrice's  hair.  Her  violet 
eyes  flashed,  her  full  dewy  lips  became  tense 
narrow  lines,  and  the  expression  of  her  face 
was  full  as  proud  and  cold  as  that  of  the 
Duchess.  Then,  as  suddenly,  all  the  coldness, 
the  aloofness,  the  pride  melted  away  as  hoar 
frost  in  the  rays  of  the  sun.  With  a  bright 
smile,  yet  in  tones  of  strong  feeling,  she  said : 

"My  father  has  filled  the  place  of  both  par 
ents  to  me.  None  could  have  been  more  kind, 
more  tender,  more  loving.  Yet  he  had  a  firm 
hand  'neath  the  glove  of  velvet.  As  for  me, 
I  think  I  should  have  been  very  unhappy  had 
he  chosen  to  put  another  in  my  dear  mother's 
place." 

The  Count  noticed  that  after  luncheon  Lady 
Beatrice  said  no  more  about  a  gallop,  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  should  the  next  morn 
ing  be  fair  he  would  himself  venture  in  the 


THE  DEPARTURE  FOR  PARIS  209 

saddle,  that  together  they  might  take  a  short 
canter.  That  evening  they  arrived  at  Les  An- 
delys.  The  sun  had  set,  leaving  in  the  west  a 
broad  ribbon  of  dappled  purple,  crimson  and 
gold,  while  certain  dark  clouds  to  the  north 
indicated  a  storm  tor  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  DELAY  AND  A  DISTURBANCE 

"I  prithee,  now  lead  the  way  without  any  more  talking." 

— The    Tempest. 

The  inclement  weather  detained  them  for 
three  days,  then  once  more  they  pushed  for 
ward,  this  time  more  slowly  than  before,  owing 
to  the  condition  of  the  roads,  which  were  heavy, 
rain-soaked  and  full  of  great  ruts  and  puddles. 

Though  the  sun  shone  palely  in  the  morning, 
long  before  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  it  had 
vanished  behind  gray  and  white  mottled  clouds. 
Fitful  gusts  of  wind  sifting  in  through  every 
crevice  of  the  coach  made  them  only  too  glad  to 
keep  their  wraps  well  about  them.  Twice  dur 
ing  the  day  their  conveyance  became  so  deeply 
imbedded  in  the  mud  that  not  only  its  six  horses 
were  needed  to  release  it,  but  several  of  those 
belonging  to  the  men-at-arms. 

The  Duchess  was  anxiously  inquiring  of  the 
Count  as  if  he  were  familiar  with  the  country 
when,  with  a  loud  cracking  sound  the  coach, 
reeling  and  groaning  like  a  live  creature  in  pain, 
pitched  violently  forward  with  such  suddenness 
that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  mind  of 
the  two  young  men,  the  Duchess  must  have 
received  a  serious  injury.  A  few  moments  later, 
before  the  Count  or  Edward  could  unfasten  the 
210 


A  DELAY  AND  A  DISTURBANCE  211 

door,  Pierre,  the  coachman,  came  to  the  window 
which  Bess  had  opened  saying,  in  a  tone  of 
disgust: 

"Madame  la  Duchesse,  the  axle-tree  is 
broken!" 

"And,  prithee,  what  is  that?"  asked  his  mis 
tress  in  her  excitement  and  annoyance.  "What 
does  it  matter  to  me  whether  it  is  broken  or  not? 
Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  stay  here  all  night 
to  please  you  or  the  axle-tree?" 

"But,  Madame,"  began  Pierre,  with  an  ex 
planatory  gesture,  indicative  of  despair. 

"No,  do  not  Madame  me,"  interrupted  the 
Duchess  in  a  fury.  "Had  you  not  been  careless, 
surely  this  never  would  have  happened.  I  will 
report  you  to  the  Duke  at  once,  on  reaching 
Paris!" 

A  look  of  alarm  overspread  the  features  of 
the  coachman,  as  he  glanced  to  right  and  left  in 
a  questioning  manner,  as  much  as  to  ask,  "Will 
no  one  try  to  make  her  understand?" 

The  Count  spoke  to  the  Duchess  in  a  concilia 
tory  tone,  Pierre  withdrawing  his  head  from  the 
window  and  standing  within  earshot,  the  better 
to  hear  what  might  be  said. 

"I  think,  Madame  la  Duchesse,  that  the 
blame  of  the  accident  should  be  laid  to  the  road, 
which  is  deep-rutted  and  soggy.  Your  coach, 
I  think,  has  been  housed  till  the  wood  becoming 
dry  and  brittle  must  needs  feel  such  straining 
and  pulling  as  the  horses  have  given  it.  To  my 
mind,  it's  no  wonder  that  it  broke  in  twain.  Yet 
I  think  it  can  be  readily  mended.  Strive  to  be  as 


212  CONQUERORS  ALL 

patient  and  calm  as  you  can  under  the  circum 
stances,  while  I  see  what  Pierre  and  I  can  do 
toward  repairing  it." 

"Merci,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  you  are  too 
kind!  Let  Pierre,  who  broke  it,  mend  it,"  re 
plied  the  Duchess  irritably. 

Not  waiting  to  hear  more,  the  Count,  fol 
lowed  by  Edward,  together  with  the  coachman 
were  soon  examining  the  result  of  the  break 
which,  to  their  chagrin,  they  found  more  serious 
than  they  had  anticipated.  On  the  box  still  sat 
Monsieur  Deroache,  reading  his  breviary  as 
calmly  as  though  they  were  not  stuck  fast  in  the 
mud  with  night  rapidly  approaching.  It  was  a 
desolate  spot,  and  the  Count  wondered  what 
could  be  done.  He  knew  that  they  must  be  at 
least  two  leagues  from  any  habitation,  and  if  he 
remembered  rightly,  three  leagues  from  any  inn. 
Bidding  one  of  the  men  cut  down  a  small  sap 
ling  and  trim  off  its  branches,  the  Count  showed 
the  man  how  to  brace  the  broken  axel  by  lash 
ing  it  firmly  to  the  tree.  An  hour  was  consumed 
at  this  labor,  and  brooding  night  with  sable  out 
spread  wings,  was  already  hovering  over  the 
earth  before  they  were  able  to  resume  their 
journey. 

From  the  moment  the  Count  had  left  the 
coach,  the  Duchess  had  not  spoken.  As  for 
Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess,  they  scarcely  dared  to 
breathe,  lest  it  should  call  forth  from  the 
Duchess  a  reprimand.  They  proceeded  with 
their  journey  slowly.  The  coach  rumbled  on,  its 


A  DELAY  AND  A  DISTURBANCE  213 

discordant  creakings  and  groanings  effectually 
preventing  all  conversation. 

Not  a  star  appeared  in  the  heavens,  nor  a 
trace  of  the  moon.  Nothing  pierced  the  darkness 
but  the  fitful  gleams  of  the  lanterns  borne  by  the 
men,  and  the  dim  lamps  of  the  carriage.  Lady 
Beatrice  and  the  Duches  dozed,  as  also  did 
Bess.  At  some  unusual  sound,  they  would  start 
from  their  uneasy  slumber,  awakening  for  a 
moment  to  the  consciousness  of  their  surround 
ings,  to  lose  once  again  all  sense  of  discomfort 
in  sleepland. 

It  was  almost  midnight.  Wearied,  stiffened 
with  cold,  with  aching  bones,  they  stopped  at 
a  small  inn,  thankful  for  shelter  from  the  biting 
winds.  After  a  night's  rest  at  this  little  hamlet 
where  they  were  fortunate  enough  to  get  their 
carriage  repaired,  they  decided  not  to  push  on 
until  the  next  morning.  It  was  late  in  the  day 
and  the  sky  threatened  rain. 

The  Duchess  and  Lady  Beatrice  had  hardly 
retired  to  rest  when  a  loud  hammering  on  the 
outer  door  aroused  them.  As  the  knocking 
continued,  mingled  with  men's  voices,  coarse 
oaths,  the  snorting  of  horses  and  clatter  of  har 
ness,  they  wondered  what  it  could  all  mean. 
Clearly  ringing  above  other  voices  came  that  of 
the  one  in  command,  as  he  shouted  with  a  ter 
rible  oath : 

"Ho  ye!  varlets,  ope  wide  this  door  ere  I 
split  it!  Open,  rascals!  Think  you  to  keep 
your  betters  waiting  while  you  are  tucked  snug 
in  bed?" 


214  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Bess,  who  had  come  in  from  the  little  room 
adjoining  that  of  her  mistress,  crept  to  Lady 
Beatrice's  side,  saying  in  a  low  frightened  tone : 

"Hear  you  the  clamor?  Do  you  know  that 
voice?  Methinks  I  heard  it  the  day  or  the 
battle!" 

"Why  lass  !"  exclaimed  her  mistress  as,  catch 
ing  her  by  the  arm,  she  raised  herself  to  a  sitting 
posture,  "you  are  trembling,  shaking  like  an 
aspen  leaf!  Go  dress  yourself,  or  you  will  take 
cold." 

Seeing  that  Bess  was  too  terrified  to  heed, 
Lady  Beatrice  exclaimed  imperatively: 

"Go  at  once !  Put  on  your  warmest  clothing. 
Then  return  and  help  me.  Who  knows  what 
may  happen." 

In  the  meantime,  while  her  handmaiden  in 
the  adjoining  room  was  hurrying  to  dress,  Lady 
Beatrice,  springing  lightly  to  the  floor,  began 
searching  for  stockings  and  shoes,  and  by  the 
time  Bess  had  returned  she,  too,  was  ready  for 
whatever  might  occur. 

One  of  the  Duchess'  maids,  rapping  at  the 
door,  exclaimed  in  a  smothered  voice : 

"My  lady  bids  you  haste  to  her  chamber 
bringing  with  you  your  jewels  and  your  maid." 

Not  waiting  for  an  answer,  she  scurried 
away. 

Shortly  afterward,  Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess, 
while  hastening  down  the  hall  in  response  to  the 
Duchess'  summons,  came  face  to  face  with  the 
Count.  Bess,  who  was  a  little  in  advance  of  her 
mistress,  candle  in  hand,  without  realizing  what 


A  DELAY  AND  A  DISTURBANCE  215 

she  was  doing  caught  hold  of  his  sleeve,  exclaim 
ing  excitedly: 

"Do  not  leave  us!  See!  my  lady  and  I  are 
going  to  the  Duchess'  chamber.  Come  too,  and 
protect  us!" 

Lady  Beatrice,  in  spite  of  the  unreasonable 
hour,  the  din  below  stairs  and  the  gruff  voices 
of  men,  said  chidingly  to  Bess : 

"What  are  you  about,  girl?  Have  your  wits 
gone  astray?" 

Turning  to  the  Count,  with  a  frank  smile,  she 
said: 

"You  must  not  heed  her,  Monsieur.  Since 
that  terrible  day  her  nerves  have  been  dis 
traught.  But  where  were  you  going?  Surely 
not  alone  to  the  kitchen !" 

"And  why  not  alone,  Mademoiselle?  Do  you 
think  I  fear  to  meet  dangers  single-handed?  Or 
that  because  I  have  been  a  prisoner  twice,  I  am 
a  coward!" 

"No,  no !"  exclaimed  Lady  Beatrice  in  tones 
of  distress.  "Who  could  look  at  you  and  think 
that?  Surely  not  I!  Yet  is  it  wise  or  prudent 
to  court  evil?  But  you  are  a  man,  and  no  doubt 
know  better  than  a  maid,  the  need  for  prompt 
action." 

Just  then  Edward,  fully  armed  as  was  the 
Count,  joined  them,  saying  in  a  half  suppressed 
whisper,  yet  with  a  gleam  of  amusement  twink 
ling  in  his  eyes: 

"I  trust,  M  le  Comte,  I  have  not  disturbed 
you  and  my  fair  cousin  in  any  wise  plans  for  the 
future — "  He  paused  till  the  color  mounted 


216  CONQUERORS  ALL 

high  in  her  cheeks  before  continuing — "As  to 
the  manner  of  dealing  with  the  ruffianly  crew, 
whose  blasphemous  oaths  and  foul-mouthed 
conversation  would  denote  that  they  had  drunk 
too  freely  at  their  last  stopping-place.  You  feel 
no  fear,  Lady  Beatrice?"  he  asked  teasingly. 

"No,  Edward.  You  are  too  free  in  your 
speech.  Methinks  it  were  well  that  Bess  and  I 
should  join  the  Duchess.  Au  revoir,  M.  le 
Comte;  and  Edward,  if  you  should  need  any 
assistance,  fail  not  to  call  on  Lady  Beatrice  of 
Wotton!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  STRANGE  DISAPPEARANCE 

"The  time  now  serves  not  to  expostulate." 
— The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

"If  I  mistake  not,  Monsieur  Brentwood," 
said  the  Count,  as  together  they  listened  intently 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  "that  loud-mouthed 
person  whom  you  hear  reviling  his  men,  is  a 
renegade  Englishman.  His  followers  are  the 
scum  of  Paris.  He  is  Captain  Bertonner,  with 
Spanish  blood  in  his  veins,  as  reckless,  as  re 
vengeful  and  as  cruel  as  Nero  himself.  I  chance 
to  know  that  early  last  spring  the  Due  de  Berry 
had  his  lieutenant  hanged  and  five  of  his  men. 
He  threatened  to  put  the  captain  to  the  question 
should  he  be  found  either  within  the  walls  of 
Paris  or  the  Province  of  Berry. 

"Doubtless  this  would  have  been  his  fate  had 
not  the  Due  d'Orleans  interceded  in  his  behalf. 
The  Duke,  it  is  said,  has  more  than  once 
employed  this  same  scoundrel  to  carry  out  his 
despicable  designs  when  in  need  of  such  a  tool. 
The  night  before  the  battle,  Due  Charles  and 
Bertonner  were  conversing  together,  and  as  I 
was  strolling  near  I  could  not  help  overhearing 
in  part  what  was  said.  If  I  mistake  not,  his 
coming  here  is  no  mere  accident,  but  a  scheme 

217 


218  CONQUERORS  ALL 

for  revenge.  Mayhap  it  were  better  that  I 
should  not  speak  of  aught  else  I  suspect." 

"Surely,"  replied  young  Edward  apprehen 
sively,  "you  do  not  dream  they  have  designs 
against  my  fair  cousin?" 

"I  know  not.  Yet  one  cannot  answer  for 
Charles  d'Orleans.  Like  father,  like  son!  But 
this  is  treason.  It  is  not  often  I  permit  my 
tongue  such  freedom  of  speech.  Hear  you  that? 
But  why  tarry!  It  is  better  that  a  Frenchman 
go  for  our  men  while  you  stay  here  to  give  the 
alarm  in  case  Bertonner  attempts  the  stairs." 

"But,  Monsieur  le  Comte!"  exclaimed  Ed 
ward  excitedly,  "how  can  you  reach  them  with 
out  thrusting  your  head  into  danger?  If  aught 
should  happen  to  you,  what  would  fair  Beatrice 
say?" 

A  dusky  flush  mounted  to  the  Count's  cheek: 
a  brilliant  smile  shone  in  his  eyes,  as  looking 
back  from  the  stairs  which  he  had  already  begun 
to  descend,  he  said  in  a  half  suppressed 
whisper : 

"She  need  not  fear.  Your  strong  arm  and 
quick  wit  would  surely  beat  off  thrice  as  many 
as  yourself,  if  need  be." 

Then  continuing  downward  with  swift  foot 
steps  light  as  a  panther's,  the  Count,  watching 
his  opportunity,  slipped  out  of  the  door  unseen 
by  captain  or  men.  As  Edward  stood  waiting, 
well  hid  by  the  darkness,  he  felt  a  light  touch 
on  his  arm.  With  a  sudden  start  he  exclaimed 
in  astonishment: 

"What!  you  here,  Beatrice?" 


A  STRANGE  DISAPPEARANCE  219 

"Yes,  Edward:  speak  not  so  loud.  I  came  to 
enquire  the  cause  of  all  this  hubbub.  Do  you 
think  there  is  danger?" 

Stealthily  creeping  behind  her,  so  quietly  that 
not  the  least  sound  was  heard  by  the  cousins, 
came  Captain  Bertonner.  Edward  was  about 
to  reply  to  her  question.  When  he  and  Lady 
Beatrice  became  aware  that  they  were  not  alone, 
a  thick  cloak  was  tossed  over  her  head,  a  hand 
pressed  to  her  mouth  and  an  arm  thrown 
around  her  waist.  Before  Edward  of  Brent- 
wood  realized  the  situation,  a  mocking  laugh 
rang  in  his  ears  and  a  taunting  voice  said: 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  brave  Sir.  You  are 
a  doughty  guardian  for  fair  damsels." 

Almost  as  mysteriously  as  he  had  come  the 
miscreant,  bearing  the  muffled  form  of  Lady 
Beatrice,  vanished! 

Silently  hurrying  hither  and  thither,  blindly 
rushing,  wildly  searching,  Edward,  torn  by 
despair,  vainly  strove  to  find  his  cousin.  He 
flung  wide  open  the  door  of  his  room  at  the 
end  of  the  landing,  grasped  a  lighted  candle 
and  hastened  back  into  the  hall.  Although  every 
part  of  the  winding  corridor  underwent  his  eager 
scrutiny,  he  could  discover  no  trace  of  how  or 
where  they  had  disappeared.  While  thus 
engaged,  he  heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  and 
thought,  "Here  comes  the  Count.  What  will 
he  say?" 

Deeming  it  best  to  make  no  outcry  that  would 
alarm  the  Duchess  or  Bess,  he  felt  of  the  walls, 
the  floor,  everywhere,  in  fact,  that  might  hold  a 


220  CONQUERORS  ALL 

secret  panel  through  which  they  have  passed.  It 
was  thus  the  Count  found  him  when,  silently 
creeping  up  the  stairs,  wondering  at  the  flicker 
ing  candle-light,  he  saw  him  down  on  all  fours, 
feeling  with  nervous  fingers  every  crack  and 
cranny.  A  terrible  foreboding  came  to  the 
Count.  His  throat  contracted,  his  heart  seemed 
to  stop  beating,  the  blood  surged  and  throbbed 
in  his  brain,  dark  spots  floated  before  his  eyes. 
Rallying  with  a  mighty  effort  and  catching  the 
shoulder  of  the  Englishman  in  a  vise-like  grip, 
he  asked  in  a  tense  voice : 

"What  is  the  matter,  Monsieur  Edward? 
What  are  you  seeking?" 

Springing  to  his  feet,  with  a  face  livid  and 
drawn,  eyes  filled  with  alarm,  limbs  trembling 
beneath  him,  Edward  of  Brentwood  related  in 
faltering  accents  what  had  transpired. 

"Quick,  man  quick!"  cried  the  Count.  "Bon 
Dieu!  now  I  see  the  object — understand  the 
meaning  of  that  which  I  overheard.  Haste ! 
haste !  Get  your  spurs,  cloak,  hat.  Have  you 
heard  sounds  of  departure  since  I  left. 

Then  like  a  hideous  revelation,  an  echo  in 
his  brain,  came  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet.  Half 
maddened,  Edward  answered: 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  but  I  took  them 
for  you  and  your  men." 

"We  have  not  had  time  to  saddle.  'T  was 
that  villain,  Bertonner,  who  has  made  good  his 
escape.  Mon  Dieu!  he  has  more  strongholds, 
more  hiding-places,  it  is  said,  than  one  can  count. 
Tell  the  Duchess  I  will  leave  the  men-at-arms 


A  STRANGE  DISAPPEARANCE  221 

as  escort  for  her  and  Bess.  With  the  rest  I  will 
scour  the  country.  Now  that  they  have  accom 
plished  that  for  which  they  came,  hark !  they  are 
all  departing.  I  will  not  follow  them.  No  doubt 
they  have  directions  to  cover  up  the  scent. 
Haste,  haste !  man,  haste !  Tell  the  Earl  of 
Wotton  that  as  sure  as  the  good  God  liveth,  he 
shall  never  see  the  Comte  Raoul  d'Epernon 
again  except  he  return  his  daughter,  as  pure  and 
undefiled  as  when  she  was  a  babe  in  her  moth 
er's  arms!" 

"But,"  expostulated  Edward,  "surely  you 
would  not  leave  me  to  travel  tamely  to  Paris 
while  you  are  searching  for  her  who  is  my 
cousin?  Do  you  think  I  can  go  to  her  father, 
telling  him  that  it  was  my  stupidity,  my  careless 
ness,  which  brought  her  to  this  pass?" 

"Do  you  know  France?"  asked  the  Count 
with  some  asperity.  "Do  you  know  the  lairs  to 
which  this  wild  beast  may  take  Lady  Beatrice? 
Was  it  you  to  whom  her  father  entrusted  her,  or 
to  me  who  one  day,  grace  a  Dieuf  will  be  her 
husband.  Would  you  have  the  Duchess  return 
escorted  only  by  the  priest,  the  lackeys  and  the 
men-at-arms?  I  go  to  search  for  my  lady 
whether  you  do  your  duty  or  no !" 

Noting  the  look  of  dejection,  of  misery,  of 
despair,  in  the  eyes  of  his  companion,  the  Count 
said  with  more  kindliness: 

"I  feel  for  you,  lad,  and  I  do  not  think  you 
either  stupid  or  careless.  Bertonner  is  a  cun 
ning  fox  and  doubtless  had  it  been  me  instead 
of  you,  the  result  would  have  been  the  same. 


222  CONQUERORS  ALL 

But  I  must  to  horse !  Take  my  adieux  to  the 
Duchess  and  do  your  duty  like  a  man.  Tell  the 
Earl  I  shall  bring  his  daughter  safely  back  to 
him.  Bid  him  inquire  daily  at  the  house  of 
Juvenal  des  Ursins,  the  King's  Advocate-Gen 
eral.  It  is  there  I  will  report.  But  stay — can 
you  fetch  from  your  cousin's  chamber,  without 
disturbing  Bess  or  the  Duchess,  some  warm 
outer  garment  of  which  she  may  have  need?  I 
hear  my  men  approaching.  Meet  me  at  the  side 
entrance  with  whatever  you  can  find!" 

Not  waiting  for  a  reply,  the  Count  entered 
his  room.  Quickly  catching  up  what  he  wished 
for  the  journey,  he  sped  swiftly  down  the  stairs 
to  his  waiting  men.  As  he  passed  the  Duchess' 
door,  Bess  put  out  her  head,  crying  shrilly: 

"Sir  Count,  Sir  Count,  where  is  my  lady?" 
Leaving  the  question  to  be  answered  by 
Edward,  he  hastened  on.  He  was  already 
mounted  when  the  young  man  joined  him.  His 
orders  had  been  so  tersely  and  clearly  given 
that  every  man  knew  what  to  expect  on  the 
perilous  journey  they  were  about  to  undertake. 
Reaching  down  for  the  package  which  was 
silently  handed  him  by  the  Earl's  young  squire, 
the  Count  said  encouragingly: 

"Take  heart,  man,  take  heart!  If  you  carry 
that  rueful  countenance  into  the  presence  of  the 
Duchess  and  Bess,  you  will  regret  it.  Since 
leaving  you,  I  have  recalled  the  conversation 
which  I  overheard  at  the  camp.  It  is  a  clue  that 
will  doubtless  lead  me  straight  to  the  hiding 


A  STRANGE  DISAPPEARANCE  223 

place  of  Lady  Beatrice.  If  so,  no  harm  will 
befall  her.  But  I  must  away!" 

With  reluctant  feet,  Edward  of  Brentwood 
returned  to  the  inn.  Slowly  he  climbed  the 
stairs.  Before  he  could  pass  the  Duchess'  door, 
Bess  threw  it  wide,  crying  excitedly: 

"Where  is  my  lady?  Where  is  Lady  Beat 
rice?  Oh,  it  is  you.  Can  you  tell  me  where 
she  has  flown?" 

"Entrez  done,  Monsieur  Brentwood,"  broke 
in  the  Duchess  aggressively.  "Can  you  inform 
me  as  to  the  cause  of  all  this  commotion,  this 
disturbance?  This  upsetting  of  my  slumber? 
One  would  think  that  all  the  canaille  of  Paris 
were  below  stairs!" 

"Yes,  a  part,  Madame  la  Duchesse,  at  least, 
did  knock  at  the  door  for  admittance,  under  a 
Captain  Bertonner." 

"Captain  Bertonner!"  half  screamed  the 
Duchess,  her  eyes  growing  brilliant  with  anger, 
"That  wretch !  that  villain  !  that  monster !  What 
evil  egg  is  he  hatching  now?" 

"Oh,  where  is  my  lady?"  interrupted  Bess, 
unheeding  the  great  lady's  frown. 

"Tush,  girl!"  cried  the  Duchess.  "Did  you 
not  know  your  betters  were  talking?  Have  you 
no  manners  ?  I  have  often  said  to  your  mistress 
that  she  should  teach  you  a  lesson  as  to  what 
was  due  Lady  Beatrice  of  Wotton!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
ON  THE  TRAIL 

"Where  art  thou  now?" 

— A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 
"I  followed  fast,  but  faster  he  did  fly." 

— Ibid. 

When  the  Duchess  heard  of  the  abduction  of 
Lady  Beatrice,  her  rage  knew  no  bounds.  She 
fretted,  fumed  and  stormed,  venting  her  temper 
without  stint  on  both  Edward  and  Bess.  In 
vain  he  endeavored  to  explain,  even  repeating 
in  his  defence  what  the  Count  had  said  to  him. 
But  nothing  stayed  her  torrent  of  words  until, 
from  lack  of  breath,  the  flood-gates  closed. 
Then  Edward  explained  that  ten  men-at-arms 
had  been  left  as  her  escort  to  Paris:  that  the 
Count  had  thought  it  best  for  him  to  go  with 
her  that  he  might  relate  the  whole  occurrence 
to  his  uncle,  the  Earl. 

Once  again  the  turbulent  flood  of  her  wrath 
poured  forth,  this  time  with  no  restraint. 

"Fentrebleu!  this  is  high-handed  business  on 
the  part  of  Comte  Raoul  d'Epernon.  It  is  plain 
that  he  presumed  on  my  being  a  woman !  To 
think  of  his  taking  my  men  as  coolly,  as  boldly, 
and  without  my  advice,  as  though  I  were  naught 
but  a  bourgeoise !  What  intends  this  masterful 
seeker  of  dames?  Did  he  explain  to  you  his 
plans?  Where  he  was  going?  What  he  over 
heard?  Or  did  you  let  him  go  forth  telling  you 
224 


ON  THE  TRAIL  225 

only  that  which  he  listed?  I  see  by  your  face  I 
am  right  in  my  suspicions.  You  do  not  know 
where  he  has  gone  or  what  he  is  doing!  All 
you  learned,  it  seems  to  me,  has  been  that,  since 
you  could  not  look  after  your  cousin,  you  would 
do  for  the  Duchess  de  Berry  I" 

"But,  madame,"  expostulted  Edward,  his 
face  red  from  the  tongue-thrashing  he  had  re 
ceived,  "if  you  would  prefer  to  dispense  with 
my  company,  I  have  my  good  horse  and  can 
push  forward  to  Paris  in  advance  of  your  coach. 
Perchance  that  would  be  better.  Then  should 
I  see  my  uncle,  and  who  knows  what  day  will 
bring  good  news  regarding  my  cousin  to  the 
house  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins?" 

"Not  so  fast,  young  man,  not  so  fast!" 
exclaimed  the  Duchess  irascibly.  "Peradven- 
ture  you  would  prefer  to  ride  off  alone,  leaving 
me  with  no  one  in  charge.  Methinks,  consid 
ering  the  mistake  you  have  made,  it  might  be 
more  becoming  in  you  were  you  less  top-lofty. 
Remember  to  whom  you  are  speaking !  Do  you 
think  the  Duchess  de  Berry  needs  no  consider 
ation?  As  for  your  cousin,  perchance  you  for 
get  that  she  is  a  granddaughter  of  mine !  Has 
she  not  been  in  my  charge  since  early  Septem 
ber?  And  are  you  so  obtuse  that  you  cannot 
see  that  even  the  dry  cockles  of  my  heart  have 
been  warmed  by  the  sunshine  of  her  presence? 
Girl,  get  .my  drops !  All  this  excitement,  this 
worry,  this  anxiety,  is  bringing  on  that  trem 
bling  of  my  heart.  As  for  you,  Edward  of 
Brentwood,  be  you  ready.  When  the  sun  once 


226  CONQUERORS  ALL 

more  arises,  I  again  set  out  on  my  journey.  Bon 
soir,  and  do  not  forget  that  old  age  has  demands 
on  youth.  Had  you  lived  to  my  years,  you 
would  know  that  a  tree  which  is  nigh  unto 
falling,  crackles  and  groans  more  loudly  when 
buffeted  by  the  wind,  than  a  green  sapling,  which 
bendeth  to  the  gale." 

*        *        * 

We  must  now  follow  the  Count.  Through 
the  long  night,  with  the  stars  gleaming  above 
him,  he  took  the  main  road  for  Paris.  The  way 
was  rough  and  just  before  dawn  the  wind  grew 
biting,  penetrating  and  persistent,  yet  he  slack 
ened  not  his  pace,  but  rode  like  one  who  is  sure 
of  that  which  he  seeks.  Once,  thinking  that  he 
heard  hoof-beats  in  the  dictance,  he  gave  a 
sharp  command  to  halt  and  drew  rein,  straining 
every  nerve  to  listen.  Naught  fell  on  his  ear 
but  the  harsh  insistent  call  of  some  night-bird 
to  its  mate  and  the  lashing  of  leafless  branches 
which,  like  spectral  arms,  reached  out  in  every 
direction.  With  a  beckoning  motion  to  his  men 
and  a  word  to  Saladin,  he  rode  onward.  On 
the  brow  of  a  hill  his  ears  once  more  caught 
what  seemed  the  thud  of  horses'  feet.  Checking 
Saladin,  he  again  halted  his  men:  again  he 
listened  and  this  time,  like  an  echo  came  sounds 
which  told  him  that  ahead,  in  the  shadows,  were 
those  who  were  riding  as  rapidly,  as  persistently 
and  as  determinedly  as  he  and  his  men-at-arms. 

"Quick!"  cried  the  Count  in  an  exultant  tone. 
"Hasten!  If  I  mistake  not,  Captain  Bertonner 
is  but  a  short  league  away.  Spare  not  the  spurs ! 


ON  THE  TRAIL  227 

You  must  bestride  swift  horses  to  keep  up  with 
Saladin!" 

Without  a  backward  look  to  see  if  his  men 
were  close  at  his  heels,  he  dashed  madly  for 
ward,  the  thought  uppermost  in  his  mind, 
"Ahead  is  Lady  Beatrice!"  At  breakneck 
speed  they  descended  the  hill  and  without  draw 
ing  rein  tore  through  the  valley  below  as  though 
under  the  leadership  of  the  famous  wild  hunts 
man.  Coming  to  a  steep  ascent,  Saladin,  light 
as  a  bird,  with  nostrils  dilated,  taking  long  deep 
breaths,  every  nerve  at  its  utmost  tension, 
stayed  not  his  speed.  The  horses  of  the  men- 
-at-arms,  panting,  perspiring,  trembling  with 
their  unusual  efforts  refused,  in  spite  of  oath 
and  spur,  to  go  faster  than  a  walk  up  the  long 
hill.  Thus  they  were  left  far  behind.  The 
Count  pressed  Saladin  to  his  utmost,  all  unmind 
ful  that  he  alone  was  nearing  the  group  of 
horsemen  whom  he  could  not  dimly  see  capping 
the  next  hill. 

His  noble  horse,  foam-flecked,  with  power 
ful  strides,  entered  into  the  spirit  of  his  master. 
Actuated  by  the  dominant  will  of  the  Count,  he 
raced  up  hill  and  down,  encouraged  by  many  a 
kind  word,  undaunted,  prodigal  of  his  strength, 
willing,  yes,  more  than  willing  to  die,  if  need 
be,  in  his  master's  service. 

It  was  not  till  these  mocking  words,  "A  votre 
sante,  Monsieur  le  Comte!"  were  flung  at  him 
by  the  leader  of  the  band,  that  the  Count  took 
in  the  situation  and  realized  that  he,  single- 


228  CONQUERORS  ALL 

handed,  one  against  twenty  or  more,  hoped  to 
rescue  Lady  Beatrice.  He  was  not  near  enough 
to  see  whether  this  vile  wretch  still  held  her  in 
his  keeping.  In  spite  of  the  danger  which  he 
was  courting,  he  dashed  forward,  swiftly  pass 
ing  the  men  who  had  received  no  order  to 
molest  him,  and  came  abreast  of  their  leader. 
Imagine  his  consternation,  his  chagrin  and  the 
doubts  that  assailed  him,  when  he  saw  that  the 
man  he  had  taken  for  the  Captain  was  only  one 
of  his  minions,  and  that  Lady  Beatrice  was  not 
of  the  party. 

uHaw,  haw,  haw!"  shrieked  the  ruffian,  in 
loud  coarse  laughter.  "Haw,  haw,  haw!  Are 
you  looking  for  a  bird  that  has  flown,  Monsieur 
le  Comte?  Did  you  think  to  find  her  with  me? 
You  should  have  known  my  Captain  better.  All 
the  tit-bits  he  keeps  for  himself!" 

The  Count  knew  it  was  worse  than  useless  to 
resent  this  language,  so  he  asked  suavely  while 
smothering  his  anger : 

"Has  he  ridden  ahead  to  Paris,  or  to 
Orleans?" 

"Sacre  noun  de  Dieuf  If  you  are  not  a  sharp 
one,"  answered  the  man  between  bursts  of 
laughter.  "You  have  hit  one  nail  on  the  head 
if  you  have  n't  another." 

The  Count,  who  had  been  thinking  quickly, 
made  up  his  mind  to  try  if  gold  would  not  un 
lock  the  lips  of  this  rascal.  Glancing  back  to 
see  that  the  scum  riding  behind  them  were  not 
too  near,  he  asked  in  a  low  tone : 


ON  THE  TRAIL  229 

"What  are  your  orders  about  me,  or  have 
you  none?  Methinks  you  would  scarcely  have 
let  me  draw  alongside  had  your  Captain  not  sur 
mised  I  might  take  this  way  in  pursuit." 

"Haw,  haw  haw !  another  nail  drove  home  I 
You  should  have  been  a  lawyer,"  chuckled  the 
man.  "But  suppose  he  did,  and  suppose  I  was 
told  to  let  you  ride  to  Paris  if  you  would,  with 
out  let  or  hindrance, — what  would  you  say  to 
that?" 

"That  you  are  a  cunning  knave  I  Do  you 
think  to  put  me  off  with  chaff?  You  know  as 
well  as  I  where  he  is :  for  once,  revenge  and  his 
master  mind  run  in  the  same  groove.  Per 
chance  you  are  not  so  rich  but  that  the  finger 
ing  of  some  good  yellow  gold,  all  your  own, 
would  not  displease  you?  It  is  not  every  day 
that  a  dozen  words  or  more  will  bring  ten  louis 
d'ors!" 

"No,  Sir  Count,  do  not  tempt  me :  I  have  an 
itching  palm!" 

"Tempt  you,  man!"  repeated  the  Count,  in  a 
scornful  yet  low  voice.  "What  I  ask  you  to 
tell  is  not  worth  gold;  yet,  as  it  might  save  me 
trouble  in  searching  out  the  place  that  I  am 
going  to,  you  would  be  welcome  to  the  louis 
d'ors  if  you  would  tell  me  the  shortest  way  to 
L'Escalier  du  Diable." 

"Sacre  nom  de  Dieu!"  exclaimed  the  ruffian, 
"you  are  a  wizard!  Else  how  knew  you  that 
the  Captain  was  taking  la  belle  demoiselle  to 
Marie  Verte,  the  veriest  hag  of  Satan!" 


230  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"I  use  not  the  black  art,  yet  have  I  powers," 
answered  the  Count  ambiguously,  a  smile  play 
ing  beneath  his  low  drooping  mustache,  "which, 
perchance,  are  not  as  strong  as  I  might  wish. 
For  instance,  I  know  but  one  way  to  reach  this 
Captain  of  yours.  If  you  could  point  me  out 
another,  so  I  might  see  Lady  Beatrice  when  he 
were  not  there,  I  might  make  it  worth  your 
while,  without  his  being  one  whit  the  wiser." 

"Do  you  know  what  that  would  mean  to 
me?"  asked  the  man,  all  laughter  gone  from  his 
face.  "If  he  should  find  out  that  I  had  whis 
pered  a  word  of  his  comings  or  goings,  it  were 
better  that  I  lay  dead  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Seine!  Yet  if  I  thought  I  could  tell  you  and 
he  never  know,  I  would  give  your  gold  to  my 
little  Nanon;  she  is  a  cripple,  and  I  would  do 
much  for  her  sake!" 

The  Count,  who  had  been  watching  with  the 
greatest  intentness  every  change  in  his  face,  now 
said  impulsively,  putting  his  hand  into  his 
doublet : 

"Take  this  for  your  child!  I  give  it  not  to 
purchase  your  master's  secret,  but  that  you  may 
be  able  to  do  a  father's  part,  without  selling 
your  soul  I" 

As  though  the  pent-up  emotion  of  years  had 
broken  its  bounds,  great  tears  coursed  down  the 
man's  cheeks.  As  he  felt  the  size  and  weight  of 
the  purse  which  the  Count  had  pressed  into  his 
hand,  he  exclaimed,  as  he  hid  it  close  to  his 
heart: 


ON  THE  TRAIL  231 

"Merti,  my  lord!  You  are  too  kind. 
Whether  you  give  me  this  for  my  secret  or  no,  I 
will  tell  you  all  I  can,  and  what  is  more,  will  help 
you  not  only  to  see,  but  to  save,  your  English 
demoiselle." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
TIDINGS  OF  HOPE 

"He  draweth  out  the  thread  of  his  verbosity  finer  than  the 
staple  of  his  argument." 

— Love's  Labor  Lost. 

"Affliction  may  one  day  smile  again ;  and  till  then,  sit  thee 
down,  Sorrow!" 

— Ibid. 

The  Duchess  de  Berry  carried  out  her  plan 
of  resuming  her  journey  the  next  morning.  Bess 
cried  the  greater  part  of  the  night  and  bore  a 
very  heavy  heart  through  the  long  hours  of  the 
raw  November  day. 

To  the  Duchess  and  Edward,  as  Pierre  at 
last  drew  up  his  six  horses  at  a  small  hostelry 
for  the  night,  it  seemed  as  though  the  time  had 
been  interminable.  Had  they  known  that  the 
Count,  by  every  short  cut  of  which  he  knew 
many,  was  pushing  on  like  themselves  to  Paris, 
the  days  that  followed  would  not  have  seemed 
so  endless.  Except  for  the  sameness,  the  weari 
ness,  the  dreariness  and  the  tediousness  of  the 
time,  nothing  marked  the  remainder  of  their 
journey  with  any  event  worth  mentioning.  All 
felt  in  a  measure  relieved  from  tension  and 
strain  when  they  at  last  arrived  at  Paris.  The 
Duchess  and  Bess  went  straight  to  the  Count, 
while  Edward  hastened  to  break  the  sad  news 
to  his  uncle. 
232 


TIDINGS  OF  HOPE  233 

Edward  found  the  Earl  the  centre  of  a  bril 
liant  circle,  the  only  Englishman,  with  wit  as 
keen  and  mind  as  alert  as  the  most  talented  of 
those  who  made  up  the  coterie  about  him. 

"Ah,  Edward,  is  it  you!"  the  Earl  exclaimed 
cordially.  "Why,  man,  what  have  you  been 
doing?  Surely  the  leech  who  cared  for  you  at 
Agincourt  could  have  known  but  little,  or  he 
would  not  have  trusted  you,  in  your  state  of 
health,  to  take  so  long  a  journey!" 

"No,  my  lord,  it  is  not  my  wound.  Could 
you  walk  with  me  apart?  I  have  sad  news  to 
tell  you." 

"Yes,  Edward,  if  my  friends  will  excuse  me. 
How  is  your  cousin?  I  trust  both  she  and  the 
Duchess  are  well." 

Edward,  who  had  been  dreading  this  ques 
tion,  hastened  down  the  long  room  to  a  bow 
window,  saying  in  a  half  inaudible  voice: 

"Prithee,  my  lord,  come  this  way  where  we 
can  talk  unheard.  I  have  much  to  tell,  which, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  you  would  prefer  none 
other  should  hear." 

As  they  stepped  into  the  deep  embrasure  of 
the  window  the  Earl,  little  dreaming  of  the 
sorrow  in  store  for  him,  yet  feeling  some  alarm 
at  the  tone  and  glance  which  had  accompanied 
Edward's  words,  said  reassuringly: 

"Out  with  it,  my  lad!  If  the  cup  be  bitter 
that  I  have  to  drink,  it  were  better  at  once  to 
quaff  it  to  the  dregs,  than  to  dread  I  know  not 
what." 


234  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"But,  sir,"  cried  poor  Edward,  "if  you  knew 
what  I  have  to  tell,  you  would  realize  my  suffer 
ings.  It  is  not  easy  to  speak  of  that  wherein 
one  knows  he  has  been  weak,  or  lacking  in  that 
good  sense  which  reason  tells  him  he  once  pos 
sessed.  Perchance  it  were  better  I  came  to  the 
point  without  more  words.  Lady  Beatrice  has 
been  abducted!" 

Unprepared  as  he  was,  the  Earl  looked  at 
him  half  dazed,  benumbed  by  the  suddenness 
with  which  Edward,  after  all  his  circumlocution, 
had  at  last  blurted  out  the  frightful  news. 

"Lady  Beatrice!  my  daughter!  abducted!" 
exclaimed  the  Earl.  "Are  you  mad,  Edward? 
What  are  you  telling  me  ?  Gather  together  your 
wits  and  explain  your  strange  words  !  But  stay, 
man,  I  see  by  your  face  you  have  told  me  the 
truth.  Who  did  such  a  dastardly  deed?  What 
the  object?  When  was  it?  Where  was  it? 
Tell  me  at  once!" 

"That  is  what  I  will  try  to  do,  sir,"  replied 
Edward,  realizing  how  abrupt  he  had  been. 

"It  was  in  this  way.  We  had  broken  down — 
that  is,  the  coach.  The  axle-tree,  the  Count 
thought,  was  over-dry  by  long  standing.  The 
roads  were  heavy,  thick  with  mud,  and  the 
horses  strained.  The  breaking  of  the  axle 
detained  us,  though  the  Count  and  Pierre,  the 
coachman,  mended  it  well  with  a  sapling — " 

"But,  man,  what  are  you  talking  about?" 
exclaimed  the  Earl,  impatience,  anxiety  and  fear 
for  his  daughter  apparent  in  his  expression  and 
words. 


TIDINGS  OF  HOPE  235 

"You  see,  uncle,"  explained  Edward,  floun 
dering  on,  "the  breaking  down  of  the  coach  was 
what  detained  us,  and  when  we  reached  the  inn 
it  was  late.  In  the  morning  we  were  fortunate 
in  getting  the  great  ark  repaired.  The  Duchess 
thought  it  better  to  wait  until  the  next  day 
before  starting  again  on  our  journey.  This  we 
did:  but  the  roads  were  bad  and  we  traveled 
slowly.  Lady  Beatrice  was  as  merry  and  full 
of  quips  and  sallies  as  I  ever  saw  her!" 

"But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  her  abduc 
tion?  Come  to  that,  Edward.  Come  to  the 
point  at  once !  Can  you  not  see  how  torn  I  am 
by  fear  and  distress?  Why  did  I  leave  her 
without  Simon  to  protect  her?  But  push  on, 
man,  push  on !  Tell  me  the  time,  the  place,  and 
who  was  the  villain!  Come  to  the  matter  at 
once  without  more  delay." 

"Can  you  not  understand  that's  just  what  I 
am  doing?"  replied  Edward.  "Let  me  see, 
where  was  I?  Oh,  yes,  now  I  have  it!  We 
stopped  that  night  at  a  small  inn  and  had  scarce 
gone  to  bed  when  there  came  a  loud  hammer 
ing  at  the  door.  I  think  it  must  have  awakened 
Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess.  I  know  it  did  me." 

"Then  it  was  not  the  Count!"  cried  the  Earl 
excitedly.  "I  thought  I  could  not  have  been  so 
mistaken  in  the  man.  God,  I  am  relieved!" 

"The  Count?  What  are  you  thinking  of, 
uncle?  Did  I  not  say  there  was  a  loud  hammer 
ing  at  the  door?  Then  came  the  sound  of 
harsh  voices :  of  horses  and  men,  rough,  coarse 


236  CONQUERORS  ALL 

rascals  and  above  all  the  rest,  a  voice  which  the 
Count  told  me  was  that  of  Captain  Bertonner. 

"Now  comes  the  hard  part  of  my  story.  We, 
that  is  the  Count  and  I,  met  Lady  Beatrice  and 
Bess  in  the  corridor.  They  were  on  their  way 
to  the  Duchess.  I  think  she  had  sent  for  them. 
After  talking  for  a  moment,  the  Count  and  I 
went  to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  there  to  listen, 
while  Lady  Beatrice  and  Bess  kept  on  their  way. 
At  last,  as  I  stood  there  all  alone — the  Count 
had  gone  to  hunt  up  our  men — I  felt  a  light 
touch  on  my  arm.  I  startled,  for  I  had  no 
thought  of  Lady  Beatrice  coming  to  me  at  such 
a  time :  but  she  it  was !  She  was  asking  me 
about  the  noise  below  stairs  when,  without  warn 
ing,  without  a  sound,  there  came  a  swish  in  the 
air,  a  half  muffled  cry,  and  before  I  realized,  in 
the  darkness,  what  had  happened,  Captain  Ber 
tonner,  taking  my  cousin  in  his  arms,  vanished, 
flinging  back  these  words.  "Take  care  of  your 
self,  brave  sir:  you  are  a  doughty  guardian  for 
fair  damsels!' 

"Imagine  my  feelings !  I  dared  not  cry  out 
lest  the  whole  pack  should  be  upon  us.  Then 
there  were  the  Duchess  de  Berry  and  Bess  to 
think  of. 

"I  felt  of  every  door,  of  the  walls !  I  rushed 
to  my  chamber  and  got  my  candle,  which  was 
lighted,  and  examined  the  wainscotting  and 
floor,  hoping  to  find  some  secret  panel.  This  I 
was  doing  when  the  Count  appeared,  surprised 
at  seeing  me  on  all  fours.  It  was  the  Count  that 
decided  I  was  to  accompany  the  Duchess,  to 


TIDINGS  OF  HOPE  237 

relate  to  you  this  story,  while  he,  with  ten  men- 
at-arms,  hastened  off  in  less  time  than  it  has 
taken  me  to  tell  it,  saying,  as  he  bade  me  good 
bye,  'Tell  the  Earl  that  he  will  never  see  Comte 
Raoul  d'Epernon  again  except  he  can  return  to 
him  his  daughter  as  pure  and  undefiled  as  when 
she  was  a  babe  in  her  mother's  arms !'  He  also 
told  me  to  tell  you  to  go  every  day  to  the  home 
of  Juvenal  des  Ursins.  It  would  be  there  that 
you  would  hear  news  of  Lady  Beatrice. 
had  good  hope  that  he  could  track  this  rascal, 
this  villain,  this  abductor  of  maids,  to  his  lair. 
That  is  what  I  think  he  called  it.  It  is  so  hard 
to  understand  these  Frenchmen  when  they  are 
excited !  I  cannot  blame  you  if  you  feel  angered 
with  me,  yet  I  cannot  see  how  I  was  in  fault. 
I  would  have  gladly  gone  myself  in  search  of 
Lady  Beatrice,  had  the  Count  permitted." 

The  Earl,  who  had  seen  that  there  was  no 
use  in  trying  to  hurry  Edward  in  the  telling  of 
his  tale,  had  waited  with  what  patience  he  could, 
but  now  said  in  a  tone  of  inquiry,  freighted  with 
sadness : 

"Did  you  say  at  Juvenal  des  Ursins?  I  saw 
him  but  an  hour  ago,  and  if  there  had  been  news 
he  surely  would  have  told  me!  Now  I  will 
leave  you.  Go  to  my  quarters  and  rest,  for  you 
look  as  if  you  were  in  need  of  rest.  I  will  make 
haste  to  the  house  of  the  Advocate-General. 
He  might  give  me  advice  as  to  what  is  best  to 
be  done." 

Hastening  down  the  stairs  to  the  outer  door, 
the  Earl  called  a  lackey  to  bring  him  his  horse. 


238  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Mounting,  he  hurried  away,  outwardly  calm, 
inwardly  a  prey  to  a  tempest  of  fears.  Arriving 
at  the  house  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  he  was 
ushered  into  his  presence.  So  excited  was  he 
that  he  did  not  catch  the  swish  of  a  silk  gown, 
the  tap  of  high  heels,  nor  the  quick  fall  of  the 
tapestry  which  hid  Madame  Moreau  from  his 
sight.  Without  any  excuse  for  the  uncere 
monious  manner  in  which  he  had  entered  the 
room,  the  Earl  of  Wotton,  usually  so  punc 
tilious  as  to  the  little  amenities  of  life,  exclaimed 
brusquely : 

"Sir,  I  am  in  great  trouble !  Have  you  heard 
news  of  my  daughter?  Perchance  it  may  be 
too  soon  to  expect  it.  1  have  come  for  your 
advice,  trusting  you  would  be  able  to  help  me." 

"Sit  down,  my  lord!"  cried  Juvenal  des 
Ursins  heartily,  perceiving  at  once  by  the  Earl's 
distraught  manner  and  the  vertical  lines  between 
his  eyes,  his  state  of  mind.  "Sit  down  and  tell 
me  all  about  it.  Heard  from  your  daughter? 
No,  how  should  I?  But  if  I  can  give  you  any 
advice,  I  shall  deem  it  a  pleasure,  a  duty  to 
friendship.  Make  yourself  comfortable.  Take 
this  glass  of  wine !  To  me  it  is  ever  in  the  hour 
of  trouble,  a  quickener  of  faith  in  the  bon 
Dieuf" 

Mechanically  the  Earl  took  the  glass  and 
drank  off  its  contents.  Without  more  ado,  he 
explained  the  cause  of  his  distress.  While  tell 
ing  Juvenal  des  Ursins  the  story  told  him  by 
Edward,  there  came  loud  rapping  at  the  outer 
door,  followed  by  hurried  footsteps  down  the 


TIDINGS  OF  HOPE  239 

hall,    and   without   waiting   to    be    announced, 
Comte  Raoul  d'Epernon  rushed  into  the  room. 

"Grace  a  Dieuf"  cried  he.  "Take  courage, 
my  lord.  I  have  found  their  lair  and  to-night 
shall  have  speech  with  Lady  Beatrice — yes, 
more  than  that,  for  with  your  assistance  and 
that  of  our  good  friend,  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  I 
trust  without  noise  or  scandal,  to  rescue  her 
from  the  clutches  of  the  Due  d'Orleans !" 

"The  Due  d'Orleans!"  exclaimed  the  Earl 
and  the  Advocate-General  simultaneously.  "The 
Due  d'Orleans!" 

"Are  you  not  mistaken?"  asked  Juvenal  des 
Ursins. 

"For  the  honor  of  France,  I  wish  that  I 
were!"  exclaimed  the  Count  angrily,  his  brows 
knit,  his  eyes  flashing.  "But  truth  compels  me 
to  own  that  he,  to  whom  we  should  look  for  a 
better  example,  is  too  like  his  father  and  never 
more  happy  than  when  he  has  a  finger  in  that 
which  is  evil.  But  we  must  not  tarry  here. 
Every  moment  is  precious  !  Are  you  well  armed  ? 
Overwhelmed  by  the  good  tidings  that  his 
daughter  was  found,  the  Earl  had  remained 
silent.  But  now,  awakened  to  hope  by  the  cer 
tainty  that  she  was  near,  he  bestirred  himself. 

"Yes,  Sir  Count,"  said  he,  "armed  and 
ready!" 

Then,  as  if  suddenly  conscious  that  he  had 
failed  in  politeness,  he  reached  out  his  hand  in 
true  English  fashion,  exclaiming  in  tones  of 
deep  feeling: 


240  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Rescue  my  daughter,  Sir  Count,  and  she 
shall  be  yours !  It  were  well  that  she  should  be 
in  safe  keeping — in  the  care  of  a  man  who  can 
protect  her." 

"Wait,  my  friends,"  cried  Juvenal  des  Ursins, 
"wait  but  a  moment  and  I  will  be  with  you.  Do 
not  go  without  me !" 

The  Advocate-General,  hastening  from  the 
room  by  way  of  the  heavy  tapestry  which  had 
fallen  into  place  on  the  Earl's  arrival,  said  in  a 
low  whisper  to  Madame  Moreau  who  was 
standing  there,  unavoidably  hearing: 

"  'T  will  scarcely  be  safe  for  you,  mon  amie, 
to  remain  here  till  my  return.  It  is  better  for 
you  to  retire  to  the  secret  chamber.  There  you 
are  safe !  You  know  now  how  to  open  both 
doors  in  case  of  need,  but  forbear  to  do  so, 
unless  you  hear  the  signal  agreed  on." 

"On  your  return  you  will  let  me  know  about 
Lady  Beatrice?  You  remember,  I  have  met  the 
Earl." 

Juvenal  des  Ursins,  who  was  quick  to  note 
every  change  of  expression,  had  long  before  this 
shrewdly  guessed  the  feelings  that  Madame 
Moreau  entertained  for  this  self-same  Earl.  He 
therefore  replied  smilingly,  yet  with  earnestness : 

"You  can  depend  on  my  remembering!" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  AND  A  PROFFER 
OF  PROTECTION 

"But  wherefore  waste  I  time  to  counsel  thee?" 

— Two   Gentlemen  of  Verona. 
"Is  she  not  passing  fair?" 

— Ibid. 

Madame  Moreau  had  not  fully  recovered 
from  the  strain  of  her  enforced  incarceration  in 
the  "Queen's  Cabinet."  She  was  looking  more 
fragile,  more  pale  than  was  her  wont.  This 
very  pallor  gave  to  her  face  a  spirituality  that 
it  had  not  worn  at  The  Silver  Moon.  No  one, 
except  the  kind  wife  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins  and 
that  lady's  confidential  maid,  was  aware  of 
Madame  Moreau's  presence  in  the  house.  Their 
care  of  her  and  Annette  had  been  unremitting 
since  that  terrible  morning  when,  returning,  in 
such  haste  from  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the 
Advocate-General  had  found  them  at  death's 
door.  The  keener  intuition  of  Madame 
Moreau,  her  knowledge  that  from  within 
cometh  all  strength,  had  lifted  her  above  the 
mere  material  plane  to  where  she  was  able  to 
endure  the  nights  without  sleep,  the  long  tedious 
hours  without  food,  with  less  physical  exhaus 
tion  than  Annette,  with  all  her  robust  health. 

To  have  seen  them,  as  they  entered  the  oak- 
wainscotted  room  on  the  night  of  their  flight 

241 


242  CONQUERORS  ALL 

from  Monsieur  Moreau,  one  would  have  said 
that  Madame  Moreau  would  have  succumbed 
to  hardship  or  suffering  long  before  the  peasant 
maid,  Annette. 

With  a  sharp  rat-tat,  twice  repeated  on  the 
door,  followed  by  a  single  low  rap  which  was 
quickly  answered  by  Jean,  Madame  Moreau 
once  more  crossed  the  threshold  of  what  she 
called  her  "Derniere  Resorte." 

"Bienvenue,  Madame!"  cried  Jean  joyously, 
as  flushed  and  radiant,  with  a  bright  light  in  her 
eyes  and  a  smile  on  her  lips,  she  entered  the  oak 
chamber  where,  bolstered  high  with  pillows,  sat 
Annette. 

"Are  you  feeling  better,  Annette?"  she  asked, 
hastening  to  her  side.  "Do  you  not  think,  good 
Jean,  that  she  is  looking  less  pale,  less  wasted, 
more  like  herself?  What  do  you  think, 
Baptiste?" 

"To  me,  madame,"  answered  Baptiste,  with 
a  half  sheepish  grin,  "she  has  always  looked 
well." 

"Did  you  think  so  when  you  said  she  was  as 
gaunt  as  a  wolf?"  asked  his  mistress,  with  a 
mischievous  smile  dancing  in  her  eyes.  "Or  did 
you  intend  that  as  a  compliment  to  our  good 
Annette?" 

"But,  madame!"  exclaimed  Baptiste,  swing 
ing  out  his  great  hands  in  an  awkward  gesture, 
"did  you  not  see  she  was  thin?  As  to  that,  she 
is  not  yet  very  fat!" 

Late  that  evening,  as  Madame  Moreau  was 
assisting  Annette  into  bed,  there  came  a  loud 


AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  243 

rap  at  the  door.  Holding  their  breath  they 
listened  keenly.  Again  came  the  knock  and  the 
sound  of  a  bolt  sliding  back.  Madame  Moreau, 
with  a  look  of  alarm,  caught  up  a  scarf  which 
lay  on  the  chair.  Pushing  Baptiste  into  the 
room  with  Annette  and  closing  the  panel,  she 
followed,  just  as  the  door  opened.  Who  should 
walk  in  upon  Jean  but  the  Duke  of  Burgundy ! 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  in  surprise 
and  consternation.  Jean,  coming  forward, 
politely  asked,  as  though  unaware  whom  he  was 
addressing: 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  Monsieur?" 

"Do,"  replied  the  Duke,  as  ready  to  meet 
the  situation  as  Jean.  "I  think  you  are  the  man 
of  whom  Juvenal  des  Ursins  has  spoken  to  me." 

"Doubtless,  Monsieur,"  replied  Jean,  "if  you 
came  here  expecting  to  find  me." 

"No,"  said  the  Duke  suavely,  "that  I  did  not, 
for  the  best  of  reasons.  I  was  to  see  the  Advo 
cate-General  once  more  before  talking  with  you. 
Yet  as  long  as  you  are  here  and  he  away,  per 
chance  you  can  give  me  the  information  I  am 
seeking,  as  well  as  he." 

"Anything  that  lies  in  my  power,  Monsieur," 
replied  Jean,  wondering  meanwhile  what  the 
Duke  was  driving  at. 

He  had  noticed  his  sharp  glance  around  the 
room  and  had  seen,  with  a  shiver,  his  eye  linger 
on  the  panel  which,  by  this,  time,  Jean  knew 
how  to  open.  Secretly  pressing  the  knife  which 
he  wore  in  his  belt  more  closely  to  his  side,  he 
determined  that  before  any  one,  even  though  it 


244  CONQUERORS  ALL 

were  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  should  harm  his 
young  mistress,  he  should  feel  at  his  heart  the 
sharp  point  of  its  two-edged  blade.  In  the 
meantime,  the  Duke  had  taken  a  chair,  resting 
his  elbow  on  the  table.  With  his  eyes  on  Jean's 
face,  he  was  wondering  who  this  man  could  be. 
Both  his  manners  and  his  dress  made  him  think 
he  might  be  gentle.  But  what  was  he  doing 
here?  The  Duke  thought  that  no  one  but  he 
and  Juvenal  des  Ursins  knew  of  this  secret 
chamber  and  its  cabinet  beyond. 

As  swiftly  as  a  mother-bird  flies  to  her  nest  in 
the  spring  when  a  hawk  is  about,  came  the  re 
membrance  of  what  the  Advocate-General  had 
told  him  of  Madame  Moreau  and  of  her  secret 
hiding-place.  He  knew  as  well  as  if  he  had 
been  told  that  yonder,  in  the  "Queen's  Cabinet," 
was  the  maid-of-honor !  No  doubt  the  man  be 
fore  him  was  one  who  knew  her  secret,  and  had 
been  left  by  the  Advocate-General  to  protect 
her.  A  slow  smile  stole  into  his  eyes.  He 
watched  Jean  narrowly  as  he  abruptly  put  the 
question,  "Can  you  tell  me  where  to  bear  a 
message  to  Madame  Moreau?" 

If  he  had  thought  to  take  his  man  unawares 
he  soon  learned  his  mistake.  With  a  face  full 
of  amazement  and  inquiry,  Jean  answered 
discreetly : 

"I  am  afraid,  Monsieur,  you  have  mistaken 
me  for  some  one  else.  Could  I  tell  you,  I 
would.  When  the  Advocate-General  left  me, 
he  did  not  say  I  should  have  the  honor  of  meet- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  245 

ing  Monsieur.  He  bade  me  await  his  return. 
I  drew  from  what  he  said  that  he  alone  knew 
of  this  chamber." 

The  smile  did  not  leave  the  Duke's  eyes.  He 
thought,  "This  man  has  a  keen  wit  and,  doubt 
less  one  less  accustomed  to  men  than  myself 
would  be  hoodwinked  by  his  plausible  address." 
Yet  he  had  no  mind  to  fence  with  words,  there 
fore  without  further  delay,  he  came  to  the 
point. 

"My  need  for  being  here,"  said  the  Duke 
proudly,  "is  to  see  the  Advocate-General  in  ref 
erence  to  a  matter  that  I  learned  this  evening  at 
Court  and  which,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  would 
desire  to  know  at  once.  As  he  is  not  at  home 
and  I  cannot  wait,  't  will  have  to  go  without 
telling,  except  I  can  find  Madame  Moreau.  But 
if  you  do  not  know  her,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  you  to  understand  how  important  it  is  that 
she  should  see  me." 

Jean  was  in  a  quandary.  He  could  not  deter 
mine  whether  this  was  a  ruse,  or  meant  in  fair 
earnest.  If  he  should  give  this  man  a  clue  which 
should  turn  to  his  dear  mistress'  hurt,  what 
would  be  left  for  him  the  rest  of  his  life,  but  the 
cup  of  despair? 

The  Duke's  glance  was  still  on  Jean's  face. 
He  noted  his  look  of  doubt  and  questioning. 
Then,  as  though  to  push  the  nail  home,  he  said 
tentatively : 

"Well,  I  suppose  there's  no  use  waiting  on 
an  uncertainty.  No  one  knows  what  time  Mon- 


246  CONQUERORS  ALL 

sieur  1'Avocat  will  arrive.  After  all,  if  Ma 
dame  Moreau  is  found,  I  have  done  what  lay 
in  my  power  to  warn  her." 

Then,  as  though  suddenly  remembering  that 
he  was  not  alone,  he  said,  addressing  Jean 
directly : 

"The  message  which  I  was  to  give  to  this 
Madame  Moreau  is  of  such  moment  that  I  left 
weighty  business  to  hasten  here.  But  if  you 
cannot  tell  me,  and  as  Juvenal  des  Ursins  is 
away,  why,  I  must  fain  leave  it  untold  and 
trust  to  the  bon  Dieu  to  keep  her  from  harm. 
It  is  said,  'He  looketh  well  to  His  own !'  ' 

"But,  Monsieur,"  cried  Jean,  as  the  Duke 
stopped  speaking,  "could  you  not  leave  with 
me  the  message  for  the  Advocate-General  when 
he  shall  arrive?  If  you  do  not  care  to  tell  me 
you  could  put  it  in  writing." 

"No  I"  replied  the  Duke,  rising  as  if  to  go. 
"I  came  here  not  only  to  point  out  a  danger, 
but  to  offer  myself  as  a  shield  and  protection 
against  those  who  will  be  here  ere  long,  with 
law  on  their  side,  to  take  what's  their  own.  In 
this  house  there  must  be  some  one  who  has 
spied  on  both  the  Advocate-General  and  Ma 
dame  Moreau.  I  can  see  that  clearly.  She 
must  be  hidden  here.  I  do  not  blame  you 
for  your  caution.  Sometimes  over-caution  often, 
I  have  heard  said,  spreads  a  trap  for  too  wary 
feet!  But  why  do  I  linger  here?  If  you  do 
not  know,  you  cannot  tell  me.  I  would  have 
saved  this  fair  maid-of-honor,  if  I  could,  from 


AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  247 

a  fate  which,  methinks,  to  one  as  delicate  and 
refined  as  she,  must  be  worse  than  death !" 

"Sit  down,  Monsieur!"  cried  Jean,  in  his 
excitement  forgetting  aught  else  but  the  danger 
to  his  young  mistress  which  the  Duke's  last 
words  seemed  to  portend.  "Sit  down,  and  as 
sure  as  I  have  strength  in  my  right  arm,  if 
you  play  the  Marquise  Irene  de  Chaillot  false, 
your  being  the  Due  de  Burgundy  shall  nfot 
save  you !" 

"Ah!  then  you  know  me!"  exclaimed  the 
Duke,  an  unpleasant  expression  crossing  his 
face.  "You  have  known  me  all  the  while.  You 
played  your  cards  so  well  that  even  I  was 
deceived  into  believing  that  there  was  no  man 
in  France  who  did  not  know  Duke  John  of 
Burgundy!  But  no  matter.  I  respect  you  all 
the  more,  whatever  your  station,  for  the  loyalty 
and  faithfulness  you  have  shown  to  your  lady. 
And  now  perchance  it  would  be  better  to  call 
her  from  yon  cabinet  where,  no  doubt,  she  is 
anxiously  waiting  for  me  to  be  gone." 

Without  more  ado,  without  another  word, 
Jean  crossed  the  room  to  the  chimney.  With 
fingers  as  nimble  as  those  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins, 
he  pressed  the  spring.  Silently  and  swiftly,  as 
lark  on  the  wing,  the  panel  flew  open. 

There,  in  a  sweeping  robe  of  crimson  Genoese 
velvet,  her  bare  shoulders  gleaming  through 
rich  filmy  lace,  her  throat  and  wrists  encircled 
with  glittering  jewels,  stood  Madame  Moreau, 
a  half  startled  expression  on  her  glowing,  mo 
bile  face.  Her  dark  blue  eyes  were  brilliantly 


248  CONQUERORS  ALL 

fearless  and  defiant.  Her  dainty  head  with  its 
crown  of  purplish  black  hair,  was  held  proudly 
erect.  Framed  by  the  cunningly  carved  cornice, 
with  the  white  blaze  of  candle  light  playing 
about  her,  she  looked  what  she  was,  a  mag 
nificently  regal  woman  in  her  wondrous  young 
beauty. 

"Ventre  Saint  Jean!"  exclaimed  the  Duke, 
unconsciously,  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
radiant  vision  before  him.  "Can  this  be  the 
pale  shaking  maiden  whom  I  saw  borne  off 
fainting  from  Queen  Isabel's  apartments?" 

Then  remembering  where  he  was  and  who 
was  standing  before  him,  for  Madame  Moreau, 
entering  the  room,  had  made  him  a  sweeping 
curtesy,  he  took  his  hat  from  his  head  and 
bowed  so  low  that  its  plumes  swept  the  floor,  as 
he  said: 

"Your  pardon,  Marquise  Chaillot.  I  would 
not  have  intruded,  had  I  not  hoped  to  do  you 
a  service.  There  is  little  time  for  idle  compli 
ments,  so  I  will  at  once  come  to  my  mission. 
Two  hours  back,  I  was  dining  sub-rose  with 
Queen  Isabel.  She,  not  suspecting  that  my  sym 
pathies  were  with  you,  told  me  that  the  King 
had  been  induced  this  very  afternoon  to  sign 
a  paper  by  which  Monsieur  Moreau  could  take 
you,  willy-nilly,  wherever  he  might  find  you.  In 
conversation  I  discovered  that  he  knew  you 
were  here.  In  the  early  morning,  the  hour  when 
slumber  locks  the  senses  most  firmly,  he  is  to 
make  a  descent  on  this  house,  with  the  king's 
commission  in  his  pocket,  feeling  sure  that 


AN  UNEXPECTED  WARNING  249 

none  would  dare  stay  him  from  taking  you 
whom  he  claims  to  be  his  own." 

At  these  words  Madame  Moreau's  head  was 
lifted  higher  than  before,  and  with  an  impera 
tive  gesture  which  stayed  his  speech,  she  said 
incisively : 

"Never !  I  thank  you,  Monsieur  le  Due,  for 
this  warning.  I  must  not  stay  longer  to  draw 
my  old  friend  into  trouble.  I  wish  he  were  here 
to  give  me  advice." 

"If  you  would  trust  the  honor  of  Duke  John 
of  Burgundy,  in  his  strength  to  protect,  in  his 
willingness  to  serve,  I  could  conduct  you  to  the 
Hotel  d'Artois  and  all  the  fiends  in  hell  should 
not  take  you  from  me !" 

Jean  did  not  like  the  look  of  bold  admira 
tion  which  he  saw  on  the  Duke's  swarthy  face, 
nor  the  gleam  of  longing  in  his  eye,  when  he 
looked  upon  his  mistress.  Something  told  him 
that,  at  heart,  he  meant  her  well.  Yet  he 
watched  him  as  a  terrier  would  a  rat,  half  ready 
to  spring. 

At  that  moment,  the  rasping  of  a  key  in  a 
lock  and  half  indistinct  voices,  fell  on  their  ears. 
With  a  gesture  of  command  and  a  kingly  up- 
rearing  of  his  head  which  reminded  Madame 
Moreau,  as  he  threw  back  his  long  black  hair, 
of  a  lion  tossing  back  his  mane,  the  Duke 
exclaimed: 

"Back,  my  lady,  back  to  the  Queen's  Cab 
inet!" 


250  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Turning  to  Jean,  he  cried  imperiously,  "Go 
with  her  and  close  to  the  panel.  Leave  me  to 
meet  whomever  it  may  be,  alone!" 

With  another  sweeping  bow  and  a  glance 
which  strengthened  her  courage,  he  said  im 
pressively: 

"You  can  depend  till  death,  Marquise  Chail- 
lot,  on  the  Due  de  Burgundy!" 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE 

"Love  lend  me  wings  to  make  my  purpose  swift, 
As  thou  hast  lent  me  wit  to  plot  this  drift." 
— Tivo  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

But  we  must  follow  the  Count  and  the  Earl 
who,  with  their  kind  friend,  Juvenal  des  Ursins, 
were  picking  their  way  in  the  darkness  through 
the  narrow  streets  of  Paris. 

"Do  we  not  need  our  horses?"  asked  the 
Earl,  speaking  low  in  the  Count's  ear,  "and 
several  strong  arms  beside  our  own?  I  have, 
not  a  bowshot  away  a  dozen  of  my  men,  among 
whom  are  old  Simon  and  Jock,  and  one  Sandy 
McPherson.  They  all  love  Lady  Beatrice  bet 
ter  than  life.  Do  you  not  think  it  well  to  have 
them  with  us?" 

"If  old  Simon  is  there,"  replied  the  Count 
with  animation,  "by  all  means !  He  is  worth 
a  dozen  in  himself.  So  is  his  son,  Jock.  As  I 
have  left  my  ten  men-at-arms  on  watch,  I  think 
that  four  or  five  of  yours  will  be  a-plenty.  This 
is  not  a  case  where  might  is  so  much  needed 
as  secrecy  and  dispatch.  Therefore,  it  would 
be  better  for  the  Advocate-General  and  myself 
to  wait  here,  in  this  doorway,  till  you  get  rein 
forcement,  we  not  being  seen  together.  There 
is  no  knowing  what  spies  Captain  Bertonner 
has  about." 

251 


252  CONQUERORS  ALL 

In  a  short  time  the  Earl  returned  with  Simon 
and  Jock,  as  well  as  the  doughty  Scotchman, 
who  had  paid  such  marked  attention  to  Annette 
at  The  Silver  Moon.  In  a  few  terse  words  the 
Earl  had  explained  the  peril  of  Lady  Beatrice 
to  the  old  henchman  and  his  son,  who  gripped 
their  blades  with  a  look  in  their  eyes  which 
boded  ill  to  any  who  should  strive  to  stay  the 
rescue  of  their  young  mistress.  On  joining  the 
Count  and  the  Advocate-General,  each  man 
strode  silently  forward  through  narrow  lanes 
and  byways,  swiftly  following  the  young  French 
man,  who  had  taken  the  lead  like  one  who  knew 
every  turning.  At  last,  with  a  whisper  to  the 
Earl,  who  passed  it  to  the  Advocate-General, 
they  halted.  Each  gripped  his  sword  for 
action,  felt  for  the  pistol  in  his  belt,  and  watched 
the  Count  like  a  ghostly  shadow  till  he  was  lost 
in  the  gloom,  yet  heard  no  sound  of  his  foot 
steps.  All  realized  the  necessity  that  naught  on 
their  part  should  awaken  suspicion. 

In  the  houses  on  either  side  of  the  street, 
which  were  built  out  like  beetling  brows  till 
they  almost  touched  one  another,  they  heard 
loud  cursing,  fighting,  carousing,  the  shrill  voices 
of  women  and  the  wailing  of  children,  mingling 
with  the  harsher  tones  of  men  capable  of  the 
vilest  deeds.  Though  they  knew  that  death 
hovered  about  them,  yet  none  of  this  little  party 
felt  the  least  sensation  of  fear. 

As  silently  as  he  had  stolen  away,  the  Count 
returned  with  his  men-at-arms.  He  whispered 
a  few  words  of  direction  to  the  Earl  and  to 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE    .  253 

each  man,  waiting  in  the  darkness,  to  prepare 
them  for  the  attack,  which  might  come  at  any 
moment  from  the  right  or  the  left,  overhead 
or  the  rear.  Slowly,  one  by  one,  the  men  melted 
into  the  gloom,  till  there  remained  with  the 
Count  only  the  Earl,  the  Advocate-General,  old 
Simon  and  Jock,  who,  followed  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  Count  as  noiselessly  as  they  could  con 
sidering  the  roughness  of  the  way,  until  they 
at  last  found  themselves  at  a  door  at  the  end 
of  a  blind  alley.  In  the  dim  light  of  a  great 
lantern,  begrimed  with  dirt,  they  saw  in  the 
center  of  a  large  garden  shut  in  by  a  high  way, 
what  seemed  in  the  gloom  to  be  a  stately  edifice. 
Once  more  the  Count  whispered  certain  direc 
tions  to  each  one  of  his  party.  Then,  as  they 
drew  back  into  the  deeper  shadow,  he  rapped 
boldly  at  the  door.  Five  loud  blows  he  gave  in 
quick  succession,  then,  drawing  the  handle  of 
his  sword  down  its  iron-ribbed  front,  twice 
slowly,  once  rapidly,  the  others  listening,  heard 
the  opening  of  a  grill,  then  a  coarse  voice 
inquire : 

"Who  is  disturbing  peaceful  folks  at  this 
time  of  night?  Get  you  gone,  you  brawler,  or 
will  I  cleave  your  skull  with  my  battle-axe!" 

"That's  nothing  to  me,"  half  whispered  the 
Count.  This  had  been  the  signal  agreed  upon 
between  Captain  Bertonner  and  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  to  be  used  when  he  should  come  to 
the  secret  entrance  by  "L'Escalier  du  Diable." 

"Rien  ne  m'est  plus.  Why  keep  me  waiting? 
A  civil  tongue  were  best  for  you." 


254  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"You  are  early,  my  lord,"  muttered  the  man, 
as  he  rattled  the  bolts  and  jangled  his  keys. 
"Captain  Bertonner  said  you  would  not  come 
till  midnight,  and  that  is  two  hours  hence." 

"And  what's  that  to  you?"  exclaimed  the 
Count  angrily.  "Venire  Saint  Jean!  if  you  do 
not  open  quickly  your  head,  by  tomorrow,  it 
shall  adorn  one  of  these  iron  spikes!" 

The  man,  evidently  alarmed,  threw  back  the 
bolt  and  opened  the  gate  leading  into  the  gar 
den,  while  the  Count,  muffling  his  face  with 
his  cloak,  strode  boldly  in,  exclaimed  impera 
tively  : 

"Stand  back,  man:  make  room  for  my  fol 
lowers!" 

"But,  my  lord,  I  was  to  admit  none  but  you." 

"Do  you  think,  wretch,  that  I  would  trust 
my  head  in  such  a  devil's  den  without  a  few 
trusty  blades  to  insure  me  a  whole  skin?  Step 
back,  I  say,  step  back!  Were  you  less  vile  I 
would  have  run  you  through  with  my  sword 
long  ago." 

"Andre!  Andre!"  at  this  moment  came  a 
shrill  cry  from  a  window.  "What  are  you 
doing?  Mon  Dieuf  'T  would  seem  to  me  you 
are  parleying  over  long  at  my  gate.  Do  you 
think  to  cheat  Marie  Verte?  Tell  them  that 
this  is  a  quiet  house;  that  we  do  not  shelter 
prowlers.  Have  you  opened  the  gate,  man?  If 
you  have,  depend  upon  it,  you  will  feel  my 
claws  in  your  face!" 

With  shaking  voice  the  man  replied: 

"It  is  the—" 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE  255 

"Hist,  hist,  man!"  whispered  the  Count. 
"Dare  to  use  my  name  in  this  foul  den,  and  I 
will  split  you,  even  if  I  have  to  lose  a  good 
blade  in  so  doing.  Tell  your  mistress  it  is  he 
who  was  expected  at  twelve." 

Once  again  came  the  voice  from  the  window, 
this  time  more  shrilly  than  before : 

"Andre,  Andre  !  What  are  you  saying?  Are 
you  drunk?  If  you  do  not  come  to  the  house 
at  once  and  make  all  things  plain,  you  will  yet 
drink  a  cup  of  your  own  brewing!" 

"It  is,"  cried  poor  Andre  again,  "he  who 
was  to  have  come  at  twelve,  Madame  Verte." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  say  so?  Morbleu! 
you  are  the  stupidest  ass  in  the  quarter.  See 
to  the  gate  and  show  the  leech  this  way.  It  is 
high  time  that  he  was  here,  for  my  niece  has 
been  crying  with  pain  ever  since  the  night  came. 
Show  him  this  way,  Andre;  I  say,  show  him 
this  way." 

While  this  parleying  between  Marie  Verte 
and  her  servant  had  been  taking  place,  the  Earl, 
Juvenal  des  Ursins,  Simon  and  Jock,  had  come 
quietly  into  the  garden,  holding  their  cloaks 
well  around  their  faces,  as  did  the  Count.  One 
more  had  slipped  in  unobserved,  and  hid  behind 
a  tree,  waiting  till  Andre  had  gone  with  the 
rest  to  the  house.  It  was  his  intention  to  find 
some  way  to  let  in  the  Count's  men-at-arms. 
This  was  no  less  a  person  than  Jacques  Poisson, 
to  whom  the  Count  had  given  the  purse  for  his 
crippled  child,  Nanon.  In  his  confusion,  ex 
citement  and  fear  of  his  mistress,  Andre  had 


256  CONQUERORS  ALL 

bolted  the  door  leaving  the  key  in  the  lock. 
With  a  "Pardon  me,  Monsieur,"  he  led  the 
way  to  the  side  entrance  of  the  house.  Here, 
unexpectedly,  he  found  the  old  hag  standing 
in  the  darkness,  her  hand  on  the  door,  waiting 
to  admit  the  Duke,  whom  she  had  so  craftily 
led  her  neighbors  to  believe  was  a  leech. 

As  the  Count,  with  an  imperious  gesture,  ad 
vanced,  she  said  in  a  tone  intended  to  be  gentle 
and  polite : 

"You  are  early,  my  lord.  But  who  are  these 
with  you?  Captain  Bertonner  said  naught  to 
me  of  you  bringing  company." 

For  answer,  the  Count  pressed  a  purse  into 
the  woman's  hand,  saying  in  a  half  whisper: 

"Hist,  Madame!  They  are  those  who  will 
find  this  fair  lady  has  trouble  in  her  brain,  and 
thus  rid  you  of  her  presence." 

"He,  he,  he!"  cackled  the  beldame.  "He, 
he,  he!"  Then,  with  a  note  of  suspicion,  "But 
had  the  Captain  his  money?" 

"You  have  yours,"  answered  the  Count,  in 
a  half  muffled  voice;  "let  that  suffice,  and  leave 
the  Captain  and  me  to  settle  our  own  bargains. 
Now  show  me  the  way!  I  have  waited  long 
enough." 

Picking  up  a  tallow  dip  which  was  sputtering 
in  a  pewter  candlestick  on  the  floor,  Marie  Verte 
went  down  a  long  corridor,  the  Count  following 
close  at  her  heels,  while  the  Earl  and  the  others 
kept  as  close  as  they  could.  Turning  a  sharp 
angle  to  the  left,  then  another  to  the  right,  she 
stopped  before  a  door  at  the  end  of  a  small  hall. 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE  257 

Putting  the  key  in  the  lock  she  said  with  a  hid 
eous  smirk: 

"You  will  not  find  your  turtle  dove  all  sugar, 
my  lord,  but  if  she  has  trouble  with  her  brain, 
he  !  he !  he  !  it's  no  wonder  that  she's  not  pleased 
at  the  thought  of  seeing  you,  as  you  might  wish." 

"Begone!"  cried  the  Count  in  a  quick  stern 
voice  which  was  still  smothered  by  his  cloak; 
"Begone  before  I  and  my  friends  enter." 

Seeing  her  hesitate,  as  though  disinclined  to 
obey,  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud  tone,  forgetting  for 
the  moment  his  former  precautions,  "Get  you 
gone  I" 

Evidently  Marie  Verte  knew  the  voice  of  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  for,  with  a  quick,  catlike 
spring,  she  drew  the  key  from  the  door,  crying : 

"You  are  not  the  Duke !    Who  are  you?" 

"I  am  one,"  replied  the  Count,  now  throwing 
off  all  disguise,  "whom  it  were  better  you  had 
died  when  a  child  than  to  interfere  with.  Stand 
one  side,  lest  I  forget  you  wear  the  semblance 
of  womanhood!" 

"He,  he,  he!"  cackled  the  hag.  "Do  you 
think  you  can  affright  me?  Do  you  think  I  am 
alone  ?  Why,  I  have  a  whistle  here  that  would 
call  thrice  your  number  to  protect  me  1" 

"You  have !"  exclaimed  old  Simon,  as  with 
the  fierceness  of  a  tiger  he  threw  his  arm  round 
her  so  as  to  pinion  hers  to  her  side,  while  press 
ing  his  other  hand  with  a  vise-like  grip  over  her 
mouth. 

But  fearing  lest  there  might  be  still  a  way  by 
which  she  could  make  an  outcry,  he  caught  her 


258  CONQUERORS  ALL 

up  from  the  floor  and  held  her  wriggling,  twist 
ing,  kicking,  striving  in  vain  to  release  herself, 
while  with  a  rapid  movement  the  Count,  turn 
ing  the  key,  threw  open  the  door.  There,  in  the 
semi-darkness,  at  the  farthest  corner  of  the 
room,  stood  Lady  Beatrice,  her  back  against  the 
wall.  In  her  hand  glittered  a  dagger;  her  violet 
eyes  were  scintillating  like  some  wild  creature's 
at  bay;  her  face  was  pallid,  while  all  about  her 
hung  like  a  mantle  to  the  floor,  the  golden  sheen 
of  her  beautiful  hair.  Dreading  lest  in  her 
excitement  and  agitation  she  should  do  herself 
harm,  the  Count  exclaimed  abruptly : 

"Here  is  your  father!" 

The  Earl,  dropping  his  cloak,  went  quickly 
to  her  side,  crying: 

"Beatrice!     My  poor  Beatrice!" 

With  a  sob  pitiful  to  hear  in  one  usually  so 
self-possessed  and  so  merry,  she  laid  her  head 
on  the  Earl's  shoulder.  His  arms  held  her  close 
to  his  heart.  Thus  for  a  moment  they  stood. 
The  others,  feeling  that  this  reunion  was  too 
sacred  to  look  upon,  turned  their  heads.  Real 
izing  the  necessity  of  leaving  the  place  as  quickly 
as  possible,  the  Count  said  gently: 

"I  trust,  Lord  Wotton,  you  will  not  forget 
the  need  we  have  of  haste?  We  will  withdraw, 
so  that  Lady  Beatrice  may  prepare  quickly  to 
leave  this  vile  den." 

As  the  Earl,  in  a  low  reassuring  voice, 
released  her  clinging  arms  from  his  neck,  saying 
tenderly,  "Do  not  fear,  but  make  what  speed 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE  259 

you  can  with  your  preparations  for  departure," 
she  exclaimed  agitatedly: 

"Do  not  leave  me !  Do  not  leave  me !  Why 
need  I  care  for  you?  Are  you  not  my  father?" 

Seeing  her  state  of  mind,  the  Earl  said  sooth 
ingly  : 

"Yes,  my  little  Trixy,  your  father!  Let  me 
help  you  as  I  used  when,  as  a  child,  you  ran 
away  from  your  nurse  with  a  shoe  and  stocking, 
crying,  'Dada,  dada,  put  these  on.  Put  these 
on." 

While  talking,  he  had  been  gathering  up 
different  articles  of  clothing,  placing  them  in  her 
hands.  Swiftly  she  coiled  her  hair,  making 
ready  to  go  with  him.  The  Earl  then  wrapped 
around  her  shoulders  a  cloak,  the  one  which  the 
Count  had  taken  from  Edward,  and  opening  the 
door,  they  went  out  together  into  the  dimly 
lighted  hall. 

Without  a  word,  the  Count  in  advance,  the 
Earl  close  behind  him,  half  supporting,  half 
carryinig  his  daughter,  followed  by  Juvenal  des 
Ursins,  Simon  and  Jock,  they  hastened  to  the 
court-yard.  While  his  lady  had  been  dressing, 
Simon  had  taken  pains  to  fasten  a  gag  into  the 
mouth  of  Marie  Verte,  and  to  tie  her  up  securely 
so  that  she  had  the  use  of  neither  feet  nor  hands. 
But  before  they  could  reach  the  gate,  she  had 
managed  in  some  way  to  give  the  alarm.  For 
tunately  for  them,  they  found  the  gate  unbarred, 
unlocked,  wide  open,  with  Sandy,  Andrew,  Saul 
and  the  men-at-arms  waiting.  Finding  they 


260  CONQUERORS  ALL 

were  close  pressed,  Juvenal  des  Ursins  cried  to 
the  Count: 

"Let  us  make  haste  and  when  we  get — "  here 
his  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper  so  low  that  none 
but  the  Count  could  catch  what  was  said — "let 
all  except  the  old  henchman,  his  son  and  the 
Scotchman,  scatter  to  their  homes.  You  follow 
me.  I  will  lead  you  through  the  quarries  to  my 
house.  In  this  way  alone  can  we  elude  pursuit." 

Hurrying  forward  till  they  reached  an  old 
tumbledown  building  near  the  corner  of  the 
street,  the  men  dispersed,  while  the  others,  fol 
lowing  the  Advocate-General  into  the  house, 
closed  the  door  behind  them. 

Their  pursuers  were  so  close  upon  their  heels 
that  the  men,  in  separating,  drew  them  off  the 
scent,  while  those  in  the  house  kept  so  quiet 
that  naught  could  be  heard  but  the  scuttling  of 
rats  which  they  had  disturbed  by  their  entrance. 

When  Juvenal  des  Ursins  thought  it  safe  to 
proceed,  he  lighted  a  small  lantern  that  he  had 
drawn  from  beneath  his  coat  and  with  many  a 
word  of  caution  as  to  the  broken  stairs  which 
they  must  descend,  and  rottenness  of  the  boards, 
they  pressed  forward,  the  Earl  carrying  his 
daughter  with  her  face  hidden  on  his  shoulder. 
At  last  they  were  in  the  quarry.  Down  a  long 
corridor  they  went  until,  turning  to  the  left 
into  another  the  Earl,  half  breathless,  ex 
claimed  : 

"Halt,  for  a  moment,  if  you  can!"  Then, 
with  a  half  smothered  laugh,  he  added,  "Bea 
trice,  your  weight  is  more  than  when  a  child." 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE  261 

"That  is  so,  Daddy.  I  see  no  reason  why  I 
cannot  walk.  You  at  least  have  strength  to 
lead  me,  have  you  not?"  she  asked  merrily. 

"Yes,  verily,  my  dear,"  replied  the  Earl, 
laughingly. 

On  they  started  once  more,  following  the 
lead  of  the  Advocate-General,  as  rapidly  as  the 
way  would  permit,  the  Count  on  one  side  of 
Lady  Beatrice,  her  father  on  the  other,  with 
Simon,  Jock  and  Sandy  bringing  up  the  rear. 
More  than  once,  as  she  felt  beneath  her  feet 
some  cold,  slimy  thing,  Lady  Beatrice  involun 
tarily  shrank.  She  would  not  own  even  to  her 
father  that  in  her  excitement  she  had  forgotten 
her  stockings  and  shoes. 

At  last,  weary,  her  feet  blistered,  torn,  bleed 
ing,  she  exclaimed  with  an  attempt  at  gaiety: 

"I,  too,  must  cry  a  halt!  Think  you  I  am  a 
man  and  can  walk  on  forever  without  taking  a 
breath?" 

The  Count,  in  spite  of  her  brave  endeavors 
to  hide  it,  had  seen  what  the  Earl  had  not  per 
ceived,  that  she  limped  as  though  in  pain.  The 
thought  naturally  came  to  him  that  the  soles 
of  her  shoes  must  be  thin,  and  that  if  he  could 
carry  her,  she  would  seem  but  a  feather's  weight. 
Farther  on,  as  they  were  passing  into  a  circular 
chamber,  they  caught  the  bright  flash  of  a  torch : 
Juvenal  des  Ursins,  turning  quickly,  exclaimed 
in  a  startled  whisper: 

"Back,  back,  back!" 

Scarcely  had  they  drawn  into  the  shadow  of 
a  projection  when  Captain  Bertonner,  cursing 


262  CONQUERORS  ALL 

fiercely,  dashed  past,  his  men  with  lighted  can 
dles  held  high  aloft,  following.  Each  one  dis 
tinctly  heard  the  Captain's  words : 

"Twice  the  money,  men,  twice  the  money  if 
we  are  there  in  time !  It  was  a  cunning  laid  plot, 
but  I  will  show  the  Comte  d'Epernon  and 
Jacques  Poisson  that  they  cannot  get  ahead  of 
Captain  Bertonner." 

Waiting  till  all  sound  was  lost  in  the  distance, 
and  scarce  daring  to  breathe,  when  they  thought 
of  their  narrow  escape,  our  little  party  at  last 
ventured  out  from  the  friendly  shadow.  In 
attempting  to  hasten  forward,  Lady  Beatrice 
unfortunately  struck  her  foot  upon  a  sharp 
pointed  rock.  With  a  stifled  groan  of  pain,  she 
would  have  fallen,  had  not  the  Count's  arm 
interposed. 

"Grace  a  Dieuf"  he  cried  impetuously,  "you 
are  hurt!" 

It  was  then  that  her  father  discovered  that 
she  was  stockingless  and  shoeless,  and  that  her 
dainty  white  feet  were  stained  with  blood,  lacer 
ated  to  such  a  degree  that  he  could  but  marvel 
at  her  courage  in  pressing  forward  without  a 
complaint.  When  the  Earl  would  have  again 
lifted  Lady  Beatrice  in  his  arms,  the  Count 
asked  earnestly: 

"Why  cannot  we  carry  her  between  us?" 

In  spite  of  her  protestations  they  formed  a 
seat  with  their  crossed  hands.  In  order  to  keep 
her  balance  she  was  obliged,  much  to  the  Count's 
satisfaction,  to  place  an  arm  around  his  neck 
as  well  as  her  father's. 


L'ESCALIER  DU  DlABLE  263 

It  was  in  this  manner,  when  the  width  of  the 
passage  would  permit,  that  they  continued  their 
long  tramp,  till  at  last  Juvenal  des  Ursins  cried 
cheerily : 

"Home  at  last!" 

It  was  they  whom  Madame  Moreau  and  the 
Duke  had  heard,  as  the  key  rasped  in  the  lock. 
It  was  their  muffled  voices  that  had  ascended  to 
the  wainscotted  chamber,  as  tenderly  they  bore 
Lady  Beatrice  up  the  stairway  to  the  door,  on 
which  the  Advocate-General  knocked  loudly. 

The  Duke,  hearing  the  sound,  paid  no  heed, 
till  he  caught  the  signal  formerly  agreed  upon 
between  him  and  the  Advocate-General.  Has 
tening  forward,  he  touched  the  spring  which 
opened  the  door.  To  his  amazement,  he  saw 
not  only  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  but  behind  him  two 
men,  bearing  between  them  what  seemed  to  him 
by  the  dim  light  that  came  from  the  oak  cham 
ber,  a  golden-haired  Hebe. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS 

"All's  well  that  ends  well." 

— All's  Well  That  Ends  Well. 
Act  4,  Sc.  III. 

"Ah  le  bon  Dieuf  is  that  you,  my  lord?"  cried 
Juvenal  des  Ursins  in  astonishment,  as  he  saw 
who  had  opened  the  door.  "You  are  a  surprise ! 
Whence  came  you?  I  thought  you  had  tabooed 
the  city  of  Paris.  Come  in,  Lord  Wotton,  come 
in  with  your  daughter;  and  you,  too,  Comte 
d'Epernon.  If  I  mistake  not,  the  quicker  we  are 
all  this  side  of  the  closed  door,  the  better!" 

"This,  Duke  John  of  Burgundy,"  continued 
the  Advocate-General  with  a  wave  of  his  hand 
— a  quick,  imperative  gesture,  doubtless  ac 
quired  in  his  profession,  "is  Lady  Beatrice,  the 
granddaughter  of  the  Duchess  de  Berry,  if  I 
have  it  rightly;  therefore  she  is  an  English 
relative  of  thine." 

The  Duke,  with  a  profound  bow,  took  the 
liberty  of  a  cousin  and  saluted  the  fair  Lady 
Beatrice  French  fashion.  Noting  the  quick 
color  that  flushed  even  her  forehead,  he  cried 
with  a  smile  in  his  eyes  that  belied  the  words 
on  his  lips : 

"You  must  pardon  me.  I  forgot,  ma  belle 
cousine,  that  you  are  from  the  cold  side  of  the 

264 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS    265 

Channel.  But  let  me  not  keep  you  standing 
while  I  make  acquaintance  with  your  father." 

The  Duke  bowed  to  the  Count,  whom  he  had 
often  seen  at  Court,  and  extending  his  hand  to 
the  Earl  said  in  his  most  debonair  manner: 

"This  is  a  great  pleasure,  Lord  Wotton;  one 
that  I  scarce  hoped  to  enjoy.  I  trust  that 
neither  you  nor  your  daughter  are  in  peril  ?  But 
if  you  should  be,  let  me  offer  the  protection  of 
Due  John  of  Burgundy." 

"You  are  kind,"  replied  the  Earl  cordially, 
"but  I  trust  the  danger  is  past.  Yet  I  thank 
you  for  your  good  will." 

The  Count  had  been  conversing  in  a  low  tone 
with  Lady  Beatrice  who,  with  roughened  hair 
and  disheveled  dress,  was  trying,  in  spite  of  all 
she  suffered,  to  keep  a  smiling  face. 

When  the  Earl  finished  speaking,  Juvenal  des 
Ursins,  who  could  no  longer  restrain  his  curi 
osity,  inquired  eagerly: 

"But  how  haps  it,  my  lord,  that  you  are  here? 
Was  any  one  here  when  you  entered?" 

"By  my  troth,"  replied  the  Duke  emphatic 
ally,  "I  should  say  that  there  was!  But  here 
am  I  wagging  my  tongue  like  any  old  dame, 
with  time  like  Pegasus,  flying  apace.  If  these 
friends  will  excuse  us,  I  would  speak  to  you 
apart  on  a  matter  of  the  gravest  importance." 

"By  all  means  1"  exclaimed  the  Count  and  the 
Earl  simultaneously.  "You  need  not  heed  us." 

"With  your  permission,  Juvenal  des  Ursins," 
added  the  Count,  "I  will  turn  out  a  glass  of 
wine  from  this  bottle  for  Lady  Beatrice." 


266  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Do,  do !"  cried  the  hospitable  Advocate- 
General.  "By  all  means,  for  yourself  and  the 
Earl  also,  and  as  for  that,  give  some  to  Simon, 
Jock  and  the  Scotchman!  Methinks  it  would 
do  you  all  good  after  the  experiences  of  the 
night." 

Walking  with  the  Duke  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  room,  the  two  conversed  in  low  tones.  At 
last  the  Advocate-General  was  heard  to  exclaim 
angrily : 

"But  I  tell  you,  not  even  a  commission  signed 
by  the  King  can  supersede  mine  which  is  from 
the  Pope." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  the  Duke  persuasively,  "it 
would  be  better  if  she  could  leave  Paris — yes, 
if  she  could  leave  France,  without  meeting  this 
viper,  Monsieur  Moreau.  Can  you  not  see, 
man,  if  she  were  to  come  to  Hotel  d'Artois  till 
such  time  as  she  could  slip  quietly  across  the 
channel,  it  would  give  you  a  chance  to  settle  the 
matter  with  the  King,  and  her  the  opportunity, 
should  she  so  desire,  to  marry  a  man  whom 
she  could  respect — one  more  suited  to  be  her 
husband.  But  why  not  let  her  decide  for  her 
self?  Perchance  these  English  cousins  of  mine 
will  accompany  her.  There  seems  to  be  need 
for  them  also,  to  leave  Paris  as  soon  as  may  be. 
I  would  not  trust  the  Dauphin  or  Due  Charles 
d'Orleans,  or  others  at  the  Court  whom  I  could 
mention.  Methinks  there  is  more  in  this  mat 
ter  of  la  belle  Beatrice  than  comes  to  the  sur 
face.  Has  she  not  landed  estates  here  in  France 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS     267 

that,  were  she  to  drop  out  of  sight,  would  revert 
to  the  crown?" 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  Advocate-General 
meditatively.  "Strange  I  had  not  thought  of 
that.  The  whole  thing  was  such  a  surprise ;  her 
abduction,  her  rescue,  the  flight — that  for  once 
my  wits  must  have  left  me.  The  Earl's  real 
business  in  Paris  is  in  reference  to  her  mother's 
estates,  so  that  at  her  grandparents'  death,  Lady 
Beatrice  can  come,  without  annoyance,  into  pos 
session.  It  might  be  well,  if  there  is  to  be  a 
marriage  between  her  and  Comte  Raoul  d'Eper- 
non,  that  it  should  receive  the  recognition  of  the 
Due  and  Duchess  de  Berry.  What  fitter  place 
for  the  ceremony  than  yours,  the  house  of  her 
cousin?  Then  would  she  have  a  double  pro 
tection,  that  of  her  liege  lord,  and  that  of  the 
Due  de  Burgundy." 

"Call  the  Earl  here,  my  lord,"  continued  the 
Advocate-General,  "or  stay,  I  will  do  it  myself." 

When  the  Earl  of  Wotton  joined  them,  they 
acquainted  him  with  Madame  Moreau's  posi 
tion,  the  Advocate-General,  in  a  few  terse 
words,  explaining  that  even  though  she  bore 
the  name  of  Madame  Moreau,  yet  by  the 
Pope's  dispensation,  she  was  legally  free  from 
a  bond  which  had  been  only  in  name,  and  at 
liberty  to  marry  again,  if  she  chose.  "In  my 
judgment  it  were  better  she  should  leave  Paris; 
mayhap  even  better  that  she  should  leave 
France." 

While  thoughts  of  Madame  Moreau  were 
running  riot  through  the  Earl's  mind,  the  Advo- 


268  CONQUERORS  ALL 

cate  plainly  put  to  him  the  case  in  regard  to 
the  property  which  he  had  come  to  possess  him 
self  of  for  Lady  Beatrice;  after  which  Duke 
John,  with  persuasive  eloquence,  laid  clearly 
before  the  Earl  the  complications  that  might 
be  avoided. 

"You  see,  if  my  uncle  and  aunt,  the  Due  and 
Duchess  de  Berry  should  get  the  ear  of  the 
king,  and  with  it  his  consent  to  the  marriage  of 
Comte  d'Epernon  to  Lady  Beatrice,  all  would 
be  well." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Duke  John,"  said  the  Earl 
unhesitatingly,  "as  to  the  wisdom  of  such  a 
proceeding,  and  will  gladly  accept  your  kind 
invitation  for  my  daughter  and  myself.  Me- 
thinks  we  should  start  at  once  while  yet  there 
is  time.  As  to  the  other  matters,  we  can  talk 
them  over  more  calmly  and  decide  more  wisely, 
after  a  night's  rest." 

Then,  to  the  astonishment  of  Lady  Beatrice, 
the  Advocate-General,  leaving  the  Duke  and  her 
father  in  animated  conversation,  went  to  the 
chimney  where,  after  a  rapid  movement  of  his 
hand  on  the  fretwork  of  the  cornice,  a  panel  slid 
back.  What  more  greatly  amazed  her  was  the 
unlooked  for  vision  of  Madame  Moreau  who, 
in  the  blaze  of  candle-light,  was  a  revelation  of 
exquisite  loveliness.  Stepping  forward  into  the 
room,  she  greeted  the  Earl  of  Wotton  with  a 
smile  so  full  of  sweetness  and  with  so  stately 
a  curtesy,  that  Lady  Beatrice,  with  girlish  en 
thusiasm,  determined  then  and  there  to  imitate 
it  at  the  first  opportunity. 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS    269 

While  she  was  wondering  where  her  father 
could  have  seen  this  lady  before,  he  came  to  her 
side  saying  simply: 

"This,  Madame  Moreau,  is  Lady  Beatrice, 
my  daughter  of  whom  I  have  spoken." 

They  were  in  the  midst  of  an  earnest  dis 
cussion  as  to  the  ways  and  means  by  which  they 
might  elude  their  pursuers,  and  the  best  steps 
to  be  taken  to  reach  the  Hotel  d'Artois  unper- 
ceived,  when  they  heard  both  at  the  outer  door 
and  the  one  leading  to  the  stairs  from  the  quar 
ries,  a  hammering,  an  incessant  rapping,  as 
though  those  who  waited  had  no  intention  of 
being  put  off. 

"Quick!"  exclaimed  Juvenal  des  Ursins. 
"Haste  to  the  Queen's  Cabinet.  Take  your 
daughter,  Lord  Wotton!  Come,  Simon,  Jock 
and  Sandy :  bring  with  you  the  candles :  gather 
up  your  mistress's  cloak.  Is  there  aught  else 
about  the  room  that  would  speak  of  her  pres 
ence?  Make  haste  I  There  is  no  time  for 
delay." 

When  all  were  in  the  Cabinet  and  the  panel 
again  closed,  Juvenal  des  Ursins  said  to  Jean : 

"You  and  Baptiste  must  carry  Annette.  Wrap 
a  warm  blanket  about  her:  but  first,  gather  up 
the  belongings  of  your  mistress.  Make  haste, 
for  each  moment  counts." 

Then  with  alertness,  a  silver  candle-stick  in 
hand,  he  turned  to  the  Duke,  saying  excitedly : 

"Look  out  for  the  others;  Lady  Beatrice  can 
not  walk.  Ah !  now  I  have  it."  With  a  push  he 
slid  back  the  bed,  disclosing  beneath  it  a  trap 


270  CONQUERORS  ALL 

door  which  he  opened  by  pressing  a  spring  with 
his  foot.  "Bring  the  candles,  we  shall  need 
their  light  on  the  way.  Wrap  warm  things 
about  you,  for  the  place  through  which  we 
must  pass  is  damp  and  cold." 

As  they  hastened  down  the  stone  stairway,  he 
drew  after  them  the  trap  door.  They  heard 
the  bed  roll  into  place,  drowning  the  sound  of 
hurrying  footsteps  through  the  corridor ;  of  feet 
crossing  the  wainscotted  room,  of  curses,  revil- 
ings,  loud  execrations,  as  the  two  parties  in 
pursuit  tried  every  panel  that  they  might  effect 
an  entrance  into  the  Queen's  Cabinet.  They 
hurried  on,  stumbling  at  times  over  the  rough 
way,  Madame  Moreau,  with  her  crimson  velvet 
robe  held  up  around  her,  leaning  on  the  Earl's 
arm,  while  Simon  and  the  Count  carried  between 
them  Lady  Beatrice.  As  before  Juvenal  des 
Ursins  took  the  lead,  the  Duke  bringing  up  the 
rear. 

After  they  had  wound  in  and  out  through 
narrow  turnings,  down  a  second  flight  of  stairs 
and  across  a  great  hollow  space  into  the  very 
bowels  of  the  earth,  where  Lady  Beatrice  saw 
on  either  side  the  sepulchres  of  the  dead,  the 
Advocate-General  halted,  calling  back  to  the 
Duke: 

"I  do  not  remember  this  chamber!  Can  it 
be  that  I  have  lost  the  way?" 

"No:  I  think  not!"  said  the  Duke.  "But  if 
you  have !  Let  me  pass,  man,  let  me  pass ;"  this 
to  Baptiste  who,  terrified  and  shaking  scarce 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS    271 

knew  what  he  was  about  as  he  blindly  followed 
Jean  and  Sandy  who  were  bearing  Annette. 

The  Duke  pressed  to  the  side  of  the  Advocate- 
General  and  a  whispered  consultation  took 
place,  ending  in  his  blowing  out  all  the  candles 
but  two,  saying  gravely  as  he  did  so : 

"We  may  have  need  of  them  ere  we  reach 
Hotel  d'Artois.  But  feel  no  fear:  there  is 
naught  to  alarm  unless  it  be  the  rats,  for  no  one 
methinks,  but  the  Advocate-General  and  I  know 
of  this  secret  passage." 

Then  without  speaking  further,  he  advanced 
a  few  steps  to  where,  as  he  held  up  the  light,  he 
could  plainly  read  a  name. 

"Tut,  tut,  man!"  cried  the  Duke  exultantly, 
"you  have  turned  to  the  right  instead  of  the 
left.  That  does  not  matter.  I  know  this  way : 
the  one  you  usually  traverse,  Juvenal  des  Ursins, 
is  less  familiar  to  me.  Still,  yours  is  the  better. 
This  way  we  shall  have  to  pass  the  long  dark 
pool.  Yet  with  sure  footing  there  is  no  reason 
why  it  should  not  be  accomplished  in  safety. 
We  must  not  tarry  in  the  damp,  but  press 
onward,  for  the  way  is  yet  long  before  us." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word  and  holding 
high  the  candle,  which  made  but  a  flickering 
gleam  above  his  head,  he  turned  to  the  left. 
After  advancing  some  distance  in  silence,  each 
one  feeling  the  chill  of  the  place,  the  loneliness 
and  horror  of  what  was  about  them,  all,  except 
Baptiste  and  Annette  bravely  suppressing  any 
sign  of  fear,  the  Duke  cried  suddenly: 


272  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"By  the  sound  of  trickling  water,  we  must 
be  nearing  the  pool !  Take  heed  of  your  foot 
steps  when  I  give  a  shrill  whistle.  'T  will  be 
well  for  you,  Jock,  if  you  have  a  steady  head 
to  walk  with  a  lighted  candle  between  your 
father  and  the  edge.  The  path  is  over  shelving, 
and  if  any  one  is  to  fall  into  the  foul  depths  of 
the  flood,  it  must  not  be  my  fair  cousin,  Lady 
Beatrice.  Perchance  it  would  be  well,  Comte 
Raoul  d'Epernon,  for  you  to  set  down  your 
precious  burden  so  as  to  rest  the  muscles  of  your 
arms,  for,  although  the  way  is  but  short,  yet  it 
is  steep,  and  one  mis-step  could  not  fail  to  send 
you  all  floundering, — le  bon  Dieu  knoweth 
where." 

Acting  on  this  advice,  not  only  the  Count  and 
old  Simon,  but  Jean  and  Sandy  straightened  up 
their  backs,  thus  releasing  their  cramped 
muscles,  while  Lady  Beatrice  and  Annette  were 
deposited  on  a  broad  slab  side  by  side. 

"Are  you  not  frightened,  Mademoiselle?" 
asked  the  shivering  handmaiden,  in  low  sub 
dued  tones.  "Do  you  not  feel  a  deathly  chill 
creeping  over  you?  This  very  stone  covers 
some  one  that  is  dead!" 

"No,  my  good  girl,"  answered  Lady  Beatrice 
reassuringly,  "I  feel  no  fear.  Why  should  I? 
Are  we  not  protected  by  those  with  strong  arms 
and  clear  brains?  Cheer  up,  for  I  know  you, 
too,  have  a  brave  heart,  and  if  I  am  not  mis 
taken,  by  the  glance  of  Sandy  McPherson,  you 
have  in  him  one  to  bear  you  whose  love  is  as 
strong  as  his  arm !" 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS    273 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mademoiselle?"  cried 
Annette  joyously,  momentarily  forgetting  her 
fears.  "He  did  tell  me  so  once  at  the  Silver 
Moon,  where  your  father  first  met  my  mis 
tress." 

While  they  were  talking,  Madame  Moreau 
drew  near  and  now  said  blithely : 

"Yes :  it  was  at  a  quiet  hostelry.  Your  father 
was  on  his  way  to  Harfleur.  You  do  not  seem 
to  me  a  stranger,  for  he  told  me  of  you,  where 
you  were  going,  and  gave  me  such  kind  advice, 
spoke  such  words  of  comfort  in  my  sore  distress 
that  my  heart,  like  a  bird,  has  been  singing  with 
hope  ever  since !" 

Lady  Beatrice,  charmed  by  her  voice,  her 
words  and  her  manner,  made  a  shrewd  guess 
that  this  singing  betokened  that  the  little  blind 
god  had  been  playing  his  tricks  with  Madame 
Moreau  as  successfully  as  with  herself. 

She  had  caught  the  glance  of  admiration  in 
her  father's  eyes  when  Madame  Moreau  step 
ped  into  the  wainscotted  room.  For  a  moment 
she  had  felt  a  cold  chill  at  her  heart.  Later  on, 
when  her  father  introduced  her,  she  had  per 
ceived  a  tender  inflection  in  his  voice  which 
she  had  never  heard  before  except  when  he 
was  speaking  to  herself.  Taking  herself  to 
task  with  severe  chiding,  she  mentally  asked: 
"Are  you  going  to  be  selfish,  when  you  are 
about  uniting  your  life  with  another's,  thus 
leaving  your  father  alone?  Would  it  not  be 
better  if,  in  this  charming  woman,  scarce  older 


274  .         CONQUERORS  ALL 

than  yourself,  he  could  find  love,  happiness  and 
consolation  for  your  absence?" 

While  Madame  Moreau  and  Lady  Beatrice 
were  resting,  the  Earl,  followed  by  the  Count 
and  old  Simon,  Jean  and  Sandy,  were  shown  by 
the  Duke  the  side  of  the  pool,  the  slipperiness 
of  the  shelving  slate  where  the  water  had  oozed 
over  it,  and  the  low  arched  roof  under  which 
they  would  have  to  stoop  even  as  they  passed 
this  terrible  spot. 

The  Earl  and  the  Count  felt  strange  misgiv 
ings  as  they  saw  in  the  darkness  what  lay  before 
them,  where  one  mis-step  might  send  them,  God 
alone  knows  where !  Yet  they  were  not  men 
to  quail  at  peril,  but  rather  to  become  more 
fearless  in  the  presence  of  danger.  At  last  the 
Duke  exclaimed  in  an  encouraging  tone : 

"To  work,  my  friends,  to  work!  If  we  all 
stay  here  in  this  dampness  and  gloom,  we  shall 
become  a  part  of  the  vapors  about  us." 

Drawing  close  to  where  Madame  Moreau 
was  standing,  he  flashed  the  light  of  the  candle 
so  that  it  showed  her  face  plainly,  the  better  to 
see  of  what  courage  she  was  made,  and  as  her 
eyes  looked  back  into  his  with  the  steadfast, 
fearless  glance  of  a  noble  soul,  he  said  apolo 
getically  and  earnestly: 

"Would  I  had  known  you,  Madame  Moreau, 
when  I  was  younger:  then  might  the  Due  of 
Burgundy  have  felt  the  strong  influence  of  a 
woman  as  bold,  and  a  thousand-fold  more  pure 
than  himself!  But  let  us  press  onward,  else 
we  shall  arrive  after  dawn,  at  the  one  dangerous 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS  275 

spot  of  our  journey.  When  we  come  out  of  this 
grewsome  place,  we  must  cross  a  large  square 
and  turn  a  sharp  angle  before  we  can  enter 
into  the  Hotel  d'Artois.  Once  there,  you  are  as 
safe  as  you  would  be  across  the  channel.  But 
it  is  too  gloomy  a  place  in  which  to  keep  two 
starlings  like  you  and  my  fair  cousin. 

"Now,  if  you  are  ready,  let  us  advance! 
Monsieur  1'Avocat,  have  you  a  candle?  and  you, 
Jock,  to  light  the  Earl  on  his  way?" 

Slowly,  with  careful  footsteps,  they  entered 
the  narrow  cavern,  full  of  dark  odors  and  noi 
some,  slimy  creatures,  which  the  fitful  rays  of 
the  candle-light  made  appear  even  more  crawl 
ing  and  loathsome.  The  Earl,  drawing  Madame 
Moreau  more  closely  to  his  side,  took  hold  of 
her  hand  as  it  rested  on  his  arm,  with  a  reas 
suring  pressure,  marveling  at  its  coolness  and 
steadiness.  He  gave  it  a  lingering  pressure  as 
it  lay  confidingly  in  his,  saying,  in  a  voice  too 
low  for  any  but  herself  to  hear: 

"Forgive  me  if  I  seem  too  bold,  but  one  may 
live  years  in  moments  when,  knocking  at  the 
heart  for  admittance,  is  fear  for  the  beloved — 
a  fear  that  would  but  mark  the  craven  if  in 
dulged  in  for  self.  The  moment  I  saw  you  at 
the  Silver  Moon  there  came  into  my  life  a 
vivifying  ray  of  sunshine.  This,  entering  into 
every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  citadel  of  love, 
awakened  into  new  life  the  germ  that  I  thought 
buried  in  ashes,  quickening  it  until  it  has  taken 
root,  and  now  when  I  least  expected  its  mani 
festation  it  has  shot  up  into  a  healthy  plant, 


276  CONQUERORS  ALL 

bearing  not  only  bud  and  blossom,  but  the  well- 
rounded  fruit! 

"I  ask  not  for  an  answer:  this  is  neither  the 
place  nor  the  time.  I  did  not  intend  to  speak 
of  my  thoughts,  of  my  feelings  and  desires, 
until  rested,  recovered  from  your  anxiety, 
strengthened  by  the  love  of  my  daughter  into  a 
better  knowledge  of  me,  you  should  feel  that 
life  would  be  brighter,  happier,  more  full  and 
complete,  were  yours  linked  with  mine.  With 
you  near  me — your  hand  on  my  arm,  realizing 
your  steadfastness,  your  firmness,  your  noble 
courage,  I  could  not  refrain  from  speech.  Yet 
would  I  rather  hear  that  which  shall  bless  all  my 
life,  or  create  a  new  shadow  over  it,  where  the 
sunlight  of  heaven  can  shine  upon  us,  instead  of 
here,  on  this  slippery  path  which  you  now  tread 
so  bravely." 

At  that  moment  a  shrill  scream  of  mortal 
agony  fell  on  their  ears — a  cry  of  such  terrible 
heartrending  misery,  that  Madame  Moreau, 
who  recognized  the  voice,  cried: 

"Oh,  poor  Baptiste!  Can  no  one  save  him? 
Can  no  one  draw  him  from  that  frightful  pool !" 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  Earl,  she  herself 
would  have  rushed  into  danger,  so  strong  was 
her  desire  to  assist  in  the  rescue.  Jock,  who 
was  lighting  the  Count  and  his  father,  thrust 
into  the  hand  of  Juvenal  des  Ursins  the  candle 
which  he  was  carrying.  Before  any  one  could 
protest,  he  had  thrown  himself  into  the  eddy 
ing  circle,  which  was  the  only  trace  that  the 
flickering  light  of  the  candles  showed  of  where 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS    277 

poor  Baptiste  had  gone  down.  Standing  there 
on  this  slippery  steep,  each  held  his  breath,  list 
ening  intently.  Both  Madame  Moreau  and 
Lady  Beatrice  sent  up  a  prayer  that  the  two 
men  might  be  rescued  from  so  terrible  a  fate. 

Not  a  sign  could  be  seen  of  either  Jock  or 
Baptiste.  The  waters  had  covered  them  as 
completely  as  though  they  had  never  been.  At 
last,  after  what  seemed  ages  of  waiting  to  all 
but  the  Duke,  who,  impatient  at  their  delay,  was 
muttering  beneath  his  breath  that  they  were 
nothing  but  lackeys,  Jock's  head  was  seen  above 
the  surface,  then  that  of  Baptiste.  As  soon  as 
the  gallant  yeoman  could  speak,  he  cried  ener 
getically  : 

"Go  forward!  I  have  hold  of  a  strong  iron 
bar.  Here  I  shall  wait  till  you  have  passed, 
lest  by  wetting  the  path  more,  I  make  it  less 
safe." 

Lady  Beatrice,  pale,  agitated,  filled  with  fear 
for  the  lad  whom  she  had  known  from  a  child, 
urged  Simon  to  put  her  down  that  he  might  lend 
Jock  help.  But  he,  like  a  Spartan  of  old,  kept 
firm  to  his  duty.  Not  until  they  had  passed 
beneath  the  low  archway  and  the  pool  had  been 
left  behind;  not  until  they  at  last  stood  in  a 
square  vaulted  chamber,  did  he  release  the  hand 
of  the  Count  and  hasten  to  his  son's  assistance. 
Then  with  candle  in  hand,  he  trod  with  cautious 
steps  the  shingly,  slippery  passage,  finding  Bap 
tiste  lying  outstretched,  held  there  by  the  firm 
right  arm  of  Jock,  while  Jock,  half  out  of  the 
water,  half  in,  awaited  his  father's  return. 


278  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Together  they  were  able  to  bear  the  apparently 
lifeless  form  of  the  weak,  shrinking  creature, 
to  where  Lady  Beatrice  was  sitting  with  Ma 
dame  Moreau,  in  questioning  suspense.  Simon, 
without  more  ado,  turning  him  over  on  his  face, 
slapped  his  back  so  vigorously  that  the  water 
poured  from  his  mouth  and  ears.  Then  he  put 
his  lips  the  leathern  flask  which  had  done  Jock 
such  good  turns  in  the  past.  A  swallow  or  more 
of  the  generous  red  fluid  ran  down  Baptiste's 
throat.  Baptiste  opened  his  eyes  to  immediately 
close  them,  crying:  "Mow  Dieu!  I  am  dead." 

'  "Not  so,"  cried  the  old  henchman  in  wrath, 
angrily  shaking  him  as  a  terrier  would  a  rat. 
"It's  not  so :  yet  't  were  a  pity  that  more  fools 
like  you  were  not  drowned.  Get  on  your  feet, 
man!  Do  you  know  you  came  near  losing  a 
life  well  worth  a  dozen  of  yours?" 

"Come,"  said  the  Duke,  "we  have  waited 
long.  My  patience  is  exhausted.  Have  you 
forgotten  that  daylight  is  approaching?  The 
length  of  time  we  have  been  in  this  place !  Do 
you  want  Madame  Moreau  and  Lady  Beatrice 
to  be  seen  by  the  spies  of  Monsieur  Moreau 
and  the  Due  d'Orleans. 

"Be  a  man,  Baptiste!"  cried  Jean,  "for  once 
in  your  life,  and  come  on  or  we  shall  have  per 
force  to  leave  you  behind." 

Without  more  ado,  the  Duke  strode  rapidly 
forward.  Soon  all  reached  a  long  flight  of  stairs 
which,  after  a  short  halt,  they  climbed,  and  lo  I 
they  were  facing  the  square  before  the  Hotel 
d'Artois !  In  the  east  a  narrow  line  of  prim- 


THROUGH  THE  CATACOMBS  UNDER  PARIS     279 

rose  aroused  them  to  the  necessity  of  making 
greater  speed,  lest  the  bright  sun  be  upon  them. 
In  such  case,  the  prowlers  of  the  night  asleep  in 
the  square,  would  wake  to  their  presence.  With 
stealthy  footsteps,  each  flitted  in  the  order  they 
had  taken  through  that  horrible  place,  to  a 
small  postern  gate  where  the  Duke,  without 
even  stopping  to  knock  or  make  any  sound 
which  should  denote  his  presence,  pressed  a 
spring.  As  though  opened  by  an  unseen  hand, 
the  great  iron-clamped  door  was  set  wide  and 
into  the  narrow  court-yard  all  passed,  Baptiste 
bringing  up  the  rear.  With  a  clang,  the  door 
again  fell  to,  its  loud  echoes  waking  more  than 
one  sleeper  in  the  neighborhood. 

"Welcome,  thrice  welcome!"  cried  the  Duke 
hospitably.  At  that  moment,  as  if  to  echo  his 
words,  they  heard  the  sweet  notes  of  a  nightin 
gale.  "Come  in,  one  and  all,  and  let  us  see 
what  we  can  find  for  cheer!"  added  the  Duke 
heartily.  The  door  at  the  head  of  the  steps 
was  flung  wide  by  the  lackeys  who,  having  ob 
served  the  approach  of  their  lord,  had  not 
waited  for  his  knock. 

As  the  Earl  and  Madame  Moreau  stepped 
down  upon  the  broad  flag,  the  sun  shot  like  a 
meteor  into  the  sky ;  a  great  ball  of  palest  amber, 
seemingly  suspended  from  the  deep  blue  of  the 
zenith  over  their  heads.  As  they  crossed  the 
threshold,  a  glittering  sunbeam  fell  between 
them  which  they  heralded  as  a  promise  for  the 
future ! 


CHAPTEB  XXXII. 

A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  AND  AN  UNTIMELY 
INTERRUPTION 

"As  merry  as  the  day  is  long." 

— Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 
"I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man. 
Who  dares  do  more?" 

— Macbeth. 

"Oh,  Lady  Beatrice !  Lady  Beatrice !"  ex 
claimed  Bess  agitatedly,  with  happy  tears  in  her 
eyes,  rushing  into  the  room  where  her  young 
mistress  sat  lost  in  blissful  reverie  of  her  lover, 
the  Comte. 

"To  think  that  miscreant — that  villian — that 
horrible  ruffian,  Captain  Bertonner,  should  have 
carried  you  away  right  from  under  the  very 
nose  of  your  cousin  Edward !  What  could  he 
have  been  thinking  of?  Did  you  know  he  has 
been  ill  ever  since  his  return  to  Paris?  How 
good  it  seems  to  see  you  once  more !  to  be 
near  you!  Did  the  rascal  harm  you?  How 
long  since  you  made  your  escape?  Tell  me  all 
about  it.  The  Duchess  has  been  so  cross,  so 
hateful — forgive  me — I  forgot  she  was  related 
to  you,  but  I  am  so  excited,  Lady  Beatrice,  that 
I  do  not  heed  what  I  am  saying.  Would  you 
mind  if  I  kissed  you?" 

"Certainly  not,  Bess,"  replied  her  young  mis 
tress,  half  crying  and  almost  as  elated  at  the 
280 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  281 

sight  of  her  handmaiden  as  was  Bess  herself. 
"Certainly  not,  though  perchance  you  had  better 
save  it  for  Sir  Harry  Hastings — or,  well,  no 
matter.  I  will  not  tease  you.  I  am  as  glad, 
yes,  as  truly  happy  to  see  you,  as  you  are  to  see 
me.  You  asked  if  I  were  hurt  and  how  long 
since  I  made  my  escape.  I  will  answer  the  last 
question  first. 

"It  was  three  weeks  ago  this  very  night  when, 
thoroughly  frightened,  I  heard  steps  coming 
toward  the  chamber  where  they  hid  me.  I 
heard  men's  voices  and  felt  within  my  heart 
such  terror  as  I  never  knew  before.  When,  lo 
and  behold!  as  the  door  opened,  who  should 
enter  but  Raou —  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Eper- 
non,  and  behind  him  my  father !  I  was  so 
dazed,  in  such  a  state  of  horror  at  what  I 
thought  must  be  my  fate — for  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  end  life  rather  than  meet  with  dis 
honor — that  when  Raou —  Comte  d'Epernon 
cried,  'Lady  Beatrice,  here  is  your  father!'  I 
scarce  took  in  his  words  till  I  felt  about  me  my 
father's  loving  arms — felt  a  true  heart  beating 
against  my  cheek,  and  realized  that  in  my  fa 
ther's  care  I  no  longer  had  cause  to  fear.  As 
to  being  hurt,  who  would  dare  injure  the  grand 
daughter  of  the  Due  de  Berry?" 

"So,"  said  Bess,  while  an  arch  smile  curved 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  and  a  mischievous 
sprite  danced  in  her  great  black  eyes,  "So  it  is 
Raou —  Comte  d'Epernon,  is  it?  I  see!  You 
have  been  getting  acquainted  with  the  French 
man  since  you  left  me.  Do  you  call  him  Raoul, 


282  CONQUERORS  ALL 

or  Monsieur  Raoul?  No — do  not  chide  me: 
just  think  of  all  I  have  suffered  since  that  ter 
rible  night!  Why,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had 
added  ten  years  to  my  age !" 

"You  do  indeed  show  the  effects  of  weeping 
and  are  paler  than  you  used  to  be,"  replied  her 
young  mistress,  very  glad  to  turn  the  subject. 
"Now  we  are  once  more  together !  Is  not  my 
hair  a  fright!  Can  you  realize  that  I  have 
done  without  a  maid  since  I  was  forced  to  take 
that  mad  ride  with  a  cloak  firmly  drawn  over 
my  head?" 

"It  looks  very  well,  Lady  Beatrice:  yet,  if 
you  do  not  mind  and  will  slip  on  this  sacque, 
methinks  I  could  improve  it.  Sit  down  here, 
before  this  long  mirror,  and  let  me  brush  out 
your  golden  hair  which  I  feared  I  might  never 
brush  again! 

"Tell  me  all  that  has  happened:  where  you 
went;  what  he  did;  who  came  to  your  rescue; 
what  brought  you  here;  why  I  was  not  sent 
for  before — all  this  and  as  much  more  as  you 
can." 

Like  two  happy  children  they  laughed  gaily 
in  concert.  Then,  doing  as  she  was  bid,  Lady 
Beatrice  sat  down  in  front  of  the  great  polished 
steel  which  did  service  for  a  mirror,  and  with 
a  blush  which  had  not  left  her  face  since  Bess's 
over-pressing  question  regarding  the  Count,  she 
asked  what  her  grandmamma  had  said  when 
she  found  her  missing.  More  than  once  their 
merry  laughter  rang  through  the  room  as  her 
handmaiden  described  the  anger  of  that  good 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  283 

dame,  and  the  torrent  of  words  directed  against 
Edward. 

Bess  was  not  to  be  easily  turned  from  her 
purpose,  however.  After  answering  as  well  as 
she  could  her  young  mistress's  questions,  she 
smiled  knowingly  to  the  image  in  the  mirror, 
asking  blithely: 

"Are  you  engaged  to  the  Count?" 

At  that  moment  they  heard  a  light  tap  on  the 
door  and  at  Lady  Beatrice's  joyous  "Come  in!" 
Bess,  as  the  door  opened,  saw  to  her  surprise 
a  young  woman  near  her  mistress's  own  age. 
It  was  Madame  Moreau.  She  wore  a  long  robe 
of  maize  colored  silk,  trimmed  with  frills  of 
priceless  old  lace.  Her  throat  and  wrists  were 
encircled  by  flashing  emeralds  and  diamonds. 
As  she  crossed  to  Lady  Beatrice's  side,  Bess 
wondered,  "What  beautiful  creature  is  this?" 

"I  see,"  said  Madame  Moreau,  "you  have 
your  Bess  once  again." 

"Yes,  Irene;  she  was  sore  troubled  and,  to 
please  her,  I  slipped  on  this  sacque.  You  see 
what  she  had  been  doing." 

"Have  you  told  her,  ma  chere,"  asked  Ma 
dame  Moreau,  "what  is  about  to  take  place." 

"No,"  answered  Lady  Beatrice,  her  cheeks 
growing  more  flushed,  "I  will  leave  that  to  you." 

Bess,  at  that  moment,  glancing  toward  the 
great  canopied  bed  with  its  draperies  of  scarlet 
velvet  trimmed  with  tarnished  gold  lace,  saw 
spread  upon  it  garments  of  such  delicate  love 
liness  that  her  young  mistress's  secret  was  re- 


284  CONQUERORS  ALL 

vealed — it  needed  no  telling !  In  a  half  grieved 
tone,  she  said: 

"You  should  have  told  me,  then  I  would  have 
taken  greater  pains  with  your  hair,  knowing 
that  this  was  to  be  your  wedding  night.  Now 
do  I  understand  why  the  Duchess  was  so  diffi 
cult  to  please.  Why  her  jewels,  her  violet 
velvet  gown  and  the  frills  of  her  lace  were  to 
be  arranged  with  such  care.  I  pitied  Bertini 
as  she  rolled  the  white  masses  over  cushion  and 
puff,  but  nothing  seemed  to  suit  your  grand- 
dame. 

"But,  forgive  me,  Lady  Beatrice,  if  I  ask  you 
one  question.  Have  you  forgotten  our  talk  in 
the  sylvan  glade  and  what  you  said  of  love  and 
loving?  But  I  will  not  complain,  for  I  am  glad 
that  the  spark  has  set  fire  to  the  tow." 

"You  must  not  heed  her,  Irene.  I  have 
spoiled  her — at  least  that's  what  my  grand- 
dame  thinks.  She  is  my  foster-sister.  As  chil 
dren  we  played  together  and  I  know,  away 
down  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  in  spite  of 
her  whimseys — and  Sir  Harry  Hastings — she 
has  a  deep  closet  with  a  wide  open  door  filled 
to  overflowing  with  love  and  respect  for  her 
young  mistress  of  Wotton." 

When  Bess  had  fastened  to  her  satisfaction 
Lady  Beatrice's  bodice,  the  veil  and  the  beauti 
ful  jewels  of  pink  pearls,  a  gift  from  the  Count, 
she  and  Madame  Moreau  drew  to  one  side,  the 
better  to  note  the  effect.  Admiring,  praising, 
extolling  the  delicate  lace  with  its  patterns  of 
rosebuds  tied  here  and  there  with  true  lovers' 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  285 

knots;  the  long  sweeping  train  of  embroidered 
white  velvet;  the  satin  petticoat  worked  with 
seed  pearls ;  the  close-fitting  low-cut  bodice  that 
set  off  her  well-rounded  figure  and  her  bare 
arms  and  neck  white  as  any  snowdrift;  the  long 
filmy  veil  worn  by  three  generations  of  de 
Berrys,  which  fell  in  graceful  folds  from  the 
high-towering  beautiful  masses  of  golden  hair, 
they  exclaimed  in  unison: 

"It  is  perfect!  it  is  perfect!" 

As  Bess  was  putting  the  last  touches  to  her 
young  mistress's  toilet,  another  knock  came  at 
the  door.  When  it  was  opened  there,  on  the 
threshold,  urbane,  smiling,  with  a  tender  love- 
light  in  his  eyes,  stood  the  Earl. 

"Are  you  ready,  my  daughter?"  asked  her 
father  who,  as  he  stepped  into  the  room,  real 
ized  as  never  before  her  marvelous  beauty. 
"Can  this  be  my  little  Beatrice,  or  is  it  some 
lovely  naiad  who  has  left  her  sylvan  stream? 
Were  it  not  for  the  roses  in  your  cheeks  and 
the  violets  in  your  eyes,  you  would  remind  me 
of  the  goddess  of  winter!" 

"You  are  too  flattering,"  cried  Lady  Bea 
trice.  "But  perchance  you  feel  the  need  of 
keeping  your  hand  in  by  practicing  on  me,  lest 
you  should  not  find  words  sufficiently  expressive 
for  other  ears." 

"You  were  ever  a  saucy  minx!"  laughed  her 
father.  "What  say  you,  Irene?  Shall  I  chide 
her  or,  as  she  is  so  soon  to  become  a  Countess, 
mayhap  it  were  better  I  should  forbear." 


286  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"Yes,  my  lord.  It  seems  to  me  it  were  best 
that  I  withdraw.  Were  you  my  father  I  know 
I  should  desire  a  few  words  with  you  alone, 
before  leaving  your  protection  for  another's. 
Perchance,  Bess,  you  will  come  with  me,  and 
give  my  Annette  a  lesson  in  the  art  of  dressing 
hair." 

In  spite  of  earnest  protestations  Madame 
Moreau  left  the  Earl  and  his  daughter,  that 
they  might  enjoy  these  last  moments  of  her 
girlhood  in  interchange  of  thought  and  in  tender 
recollections  of  that  tie  which  had  ever  bound 
them  so  closely  together. 

The  great  banqueting-hall  was  ablaze  with 
light.  Myriads  of  tall  candles  in  silver  and 
bronze  sconces  were  fastened  to  the  wall  amid 
banners  and  armor  of  ages  long  past.  On  a 
dais,  covered  with  a  rich  Eastern  carpet,  stood 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  his  son,  Philip,  the 
Count  of  Charolais. 

"Is  it  well,  do  you  think,  my  father,  for  you 
in  these  troublous  days  to  take  side  against  the 
Dauphin?  Surely  our  King  should  have  been 
consulted.  Surely  we  owe  to  him  that  rever 
ence  even  though  at  times  his  mental  balance  be 
disturbed." 

"Can  you  not  understand,  Philip,  that  time 
was  pressing?  That  I  had,  perforce,  to  leave 
Paris?" 

"Yes,  my  lord  Duke,  I  have  naught  of  which 
to  complain.  You  were  ever  a  kind  father  to 
me.  I  fear  me  much  that  it  will  foment  more 
trouble  and  strife  between  you  and  Due  Charles 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  287 

d'Orleans,  with  his  proud  father-in-law,  Ber 
nard  d'Armagnac  urging  him  on!" 

The  chaplain  of  the  Hotel  d'Artois,  with  the 
archbishop,  entering  just  then,  Duke  John  left 
his  son  to  entertain  them  while  he  strode  down 
the  long  hall  with  that  masterful  tread  that 
marked  him  a  leader  of  men.  Through  the 
opposite  doorway  came  the  Due  de  Berry  and 
his  Duchess,  with  Edward  of  Brentwood  and 
Aleck  of  Kent.  Philip  hastened  with  warm 
words  of  greeting  to  his  great-uncle's  side,  say 
ing  genially: 

"It  is  long  since  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  with  either  of  you.  Sit  down  on  the 
dais,  and  prithee  excuse  me  for  a  moment  while 
I  hasten  to  welcome  Comte  Raoul  d'Epernon, 
whom  I  see  approaching." 

Joyous,  expectant,  smiling,  resplendent  in 
white  and  gold,  Raoul  came  up  the  room  with 
our  kind  friend,  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  leaving 
in  the  doorway  old  Simon  and  Jock,  whom 
Lady  Beatrice  had  insisted  should  be  invited  to 
the  wedding.  Scarce  had  the  Count  greeted  his 
friends  when  the  doors  of  the  main  entrance 
were  thrown  open  and  all  eyes  were  turned  that 
way,  as  Duke  John  of  Burgundy,  with  Madame 
Moreau  on  his  arm,  crossed  the  threshold.  Fol 
lowing  them  was  the  Earl  with  his  daughter,  his 
face  lighted  with  loving  pride  as  he  noted  the 
queenly  poise  of  her  head  and  her  dainty  beauty. 
One  would  scarce  have  taken  him  to  be  her 
father,  so  buoyant,  so  youthful,  so  gladsome 
was  his  mien. 


288  CONQUERORS  ALL 

As  the  old  Duke  looked  at  them,  he  thought 
of  the  daughter  whom,  years  before,  he  had 
given  to  this  man,  and  a  tender  light  came  into 
his  eyes,  a  warm  feeling  about  the  heart,  as 
he  realized  the  nobility  of  nature,  the  parent's 
devotion  that  the  Earl  had  always  shown.  With 
fingers  trembling  with  age,  he  touched  the  arm 
of  the  Duchess,  saying  in  a  half  suppressed 
whisper : 

"Does  not  that  bring  back  to  you  your  youth  ? 
Do  you  remember?" 

Her  eyes,  usually  so  filled  with  pride,  disdain 
and  hauteur,  now  held  an  expression  more 
womanly,  more  loving  than  the  Duke  had  seen 
in  them  for  years. 

Comte  d'Epernon,  who  had  been  watching 
the  approach  of  what  to  him  was  the  fairest 
of  women,  marvelled  that  such  transcendent 
loveliness  could  be  hers.  Feeling  as  if  in  a 
dream  of  exquisite  happiness,  he  found  him 
self  dreading  lest  something  should  occur  to 
dispel  it. 

The  Earl  had  given  away  his  daughter  and 
with  bowed  heads,  the  Count  and  Lady  Bea 
trice  were  receiving  the  last  benediction  of  the 
church,  when  a  loud  clamor  was  heard  at  the 
outer  door,  a  noise  so  disturbing,  so  resonant, 
so  menacing,  that  for  the  moment  more  than 
one  cheek  turned  pale.  Bess  and  Annette,  who 
were  not  standing  with  Simon  and  Jock,  ex 
claimed  in  great  horror  and  fear: 

"What  can  it  be?    Who  is  it?" 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  289 

As  if  in  answer  to  their  questions  a  man,  the 
very  embodiment  of  avenging  wrath,  pushed 
them  rudely  aside,  crying : 

"I  stop  the  banns!  I  am  Monsieur  Moreau!" 

Duke  John  of  Burgundy,  his  brow  black  as  a 
thunder-cloud,  his  eyes  emitting  lightning-like 
glances,  cried  in  fierce  temper : 

"Who  dared  give  you  admittance  to  Hotel 
d'Artois,  you  scum  of  the  earth !  Be  he  gentle 
or  simple,  a  Burgundian  or  I  care  not  who,  he 
shall  pay  the  penalty  with  his  life !  Get  you 
gone!  This  is  no  place  for  such  as  you!" 

"Not  so  fast!  not  so  fast!"  cried  Monsieur 
Moreau.  "Do  you  think  there  are  no  laws  in 
France  that  protect  a  husband?  You  are  not 
the  King!  In  my  pocket  I  hold  my  sovereign's 
commission  to  seek  for  Madame  Moreau  wher 
ever  she  be,  and  to  take  her  even  though  royalty 
itself  was  shielding  her." 

"And  dare  you  bandy  words  with  me,  you 
vile  wretch  ?  Pollute  the  presence  of  my  friends, 
my  guests,  and  these  purest  of  women?  Think 
you  to  stay,  when  I  bid  you  begone  ?  What  ho ! 
there,  ho,  you  laggards  !" 

Scurrying  feet  were  heard  through  the  hall, 
each  man  anxious  to  be  first  to  do  the  will  of 
his  Lord,  for  well  they  knew  that  before  the 
night  was  past  more  than  one  head  would  pay 
forfeit  for  the  entrance  of  Monsieur  Moreau. 

"Take  this  man  from  the  room,  and  mark 
you,  fasten  him  well  in  the  dungeon  under  the 
keep!" 


290  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"The  King's  commission!"  screamed  Mon 
sieur  Moreau.  "The  King's  commission !  Dare 
you,  Due  John  of  Burgundy,  defy  the  King? 
Defy  Charles  the  Sixth?" 

"Yes:  I  dare  do  anything!  Why  bandy 
words?  Take  him  away,  and  if  you  be  not 
quick,  and  if  he  escape,  each  man  shall  rue  the 
day  he  was  born!" 

Kicking,  screeching,  foaming  at  the  mouth 
with  impotent  rage,  Monsieur  Moreau  was  car 
ried  forcibly  from  the  room.  Then  Duke  John, 
as  though  nothing  had  happened  to  disturb  the 
tranquility  of  the  scene,  turned  to  the  archbis 
hop,  saying  calmly : 

"Methinks,  my  lord,  you  had  not  finished  the 
benediction." 

When  the  happy  pair  had  received  the  con 
gratulations  of  their  friends,  and  when  they 
were  about  to  sit  down  to  the  great  table  which 
had  been  spread  with  wine  and  good  cheer, 
once  more  there  came  a  loud  noise,  a  ham 
mering  at  the  outer  door,  and  high  above  the 
din  was  heard  a  voice  shouting  fiercely: 

"Open  in  the  name  of  the  King!     Open!" 

"It  seems,"  said  Duke  John  facetiously, 
"that  we  are  to  have  more  guests  at  our  ban 
quet  than  we  had  reason  to  expect.  But  it  shall 
never  be  said  that  any  one  coming  to  the  Hotel 
d'Artois  was  turned  back,  through  fear  of  there 
not  being  sufficient  to  satisfy  all.  Mayhap  those 
who  are  banging  and  battering  for  admittance, 
have  not  come  to  sit  down  at  the  festal  board, 
but  on  some1  other  less  pleasant  mission.  Come 


A  JOYOUS  OCCASION  291 

they  as  friends  they  are  welcome !  Come  they 
as  foes,  they  shall  find  that  the  teeth  of  Bur 
gundy  can  bite  through  even  that  which  is  less 
toothsome  than  well-cooked  fowl  and  pasties. 

."What  ho !  what  ho !"  cried  he  to  his  lackeys ; 
"who  is  this  knocking  with  such  urgent  need, 
shouting  in  the  King's  name,  lest  they  be  not 
bidden  to  cross  the  threshold  of  Hotel  d'Artois? 
Find  out  their  errand.  Speed  quickly  and  bring 
back  to  me  their  number,  their  mission  and  the 
name  of  their  leader." 

Swiftly  they  ran  to  the  door  and  as  quickly 
returned.  At  a  signal  from  his  lord  the  old 
major-domo,  with  trembling  steps,  entered  the 
room  and,  with  a  low  bow,  waited  for  his 
master  to  speak. 

"Out  with  it,  man,  out  with  it!  This  is  no 
time  for  mummery.  What  have  you  learned? 
Is  it,  as  I  suspected,  Due  Charles  d'Orleans  with 
that  firebrand,  his  wife's  father?  If  so,  what 
does  he  want?  What  is  his  following?  Are 
they  well  armed,  or  have  they  come  as  guests 
to  the  wedding?" 

"You  are  right,  my  Lord  Duke,"  said  the 
aged  retainer  in  quavering  tones.  "You  are 
right.  It  is  Due  Charles  d'Orleans.  But  the 
one  who  demands  admittance  is  a  man  much 
older  than  he  and  said,  as  I  asked  him  his 
errand:  'Tell  your  master,  Due  John  of  Bur 
gundy,  we  have  come  for  the  ward  of  the  King, 
and  for  the  English  maid  that  he  filched  from 
us;  also  for  himself!  We  hold  a  commission 
signed  by  Charles  the  Sixth  for  his  arrest,  and 


292  CONQUERORS  ALL 

bid  him  remember  that,  in  spite  of  his  men-at- 
arms  and  his  lackeys,  we  hold  a  warrant  for 
both  Madame  Moreau  and  Lady  Beatrice  of 
Wotton,  subscribed  to  and  sealed  by  the  King's 
own  hand!'  " 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him?"  asked  the 
Duke  in  a  tone  so  low  and  even  that  those  who 
did  not  know  him  well,  marvelled  at  his  calm 
ness. 

"I  said,  my  lord,  that  I  would  tell  you." 

"That  is  well.  You  could  do  no  less — no 
more.  Send  Captain  Barbados  to  me — no,  stay, 
I  will  go  to  him  myself;  that  is,  if  my  friends 
will  excuse  me.  Philip,  take  my  place  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  and  do  not  tarry  for  me. 
Drink,  eat  and  be  merry!  I  fear  not  Comte 
Bernard  d'Armagnac,  nor  the  Due  d'Orleans!" 

Then  without  a  look  to  the  right  or  the  left, 
with  bent  brows  and  teeth  firmly  shut,  his 
massive  jaw  indicative  of  his  iron  will,  his 
right  hand  clenched  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword, 
Duke  John  of  Burgundy  hastened  from  the 
great  hall. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  OF  A 
PERPLEXING  PROBLEM 

"The  true  beginning  of  our  end." 

— A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 
"He  hath  indeed  better  bettered  expectation." 

— Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 
"O  wonderful,  wonderful,  and  most  wonderful 
wonderful!    and  yet  again  wonderful." 

— As  You  Like  It. 

"Come,  my  friends,  come!"  said  Philip  cheer 
ily,  "let  us  follow  my  father's  advice.  The 
Duke  has  no  fear  of  those  who  are  clamoring 
at  the  door,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should 
not  eat,  drink  and  be  merry." 

"If  you,  my  lord,  will  excuse  me,"  said  Ju 
venal  des  Ursins,  "I  will  go  to  your  father,  lest 
he,  in  ignorance  of  the  law,  should  do  that 
which  is  rash.  Methinks  I  might  point  out  a 
way  by  which  all  trouble  and  all  danger  of 
molestation  could  be  avoided." 

"Then  go,  by  all  means!"  exclaimed  Comte 
Philip,  eagerly.  "Go  by  all  means,  and  we  will 
save  you  a  bottle  of  sack,  also  a  venison  pasty, 
which,  if  I  remember  rightly,  is  your  favorite." 

"Then  au  revoir,  for  a  season,"  cried  Juvenal 
des  Ursins  cheerily.  "Be  not  cast  down.  I 
hold  in  my  hand  the  card  that  shall  trump!" 

Outside  the  din  was  growing  louder,  the  de 
mands  for  admittance  more  shrill,  persistent 

293 


294  CONQUERORS  ALL 

and  threatening.  At  the  table  jest  and  laughter 
were  tossed  about  as  though  the  confusion  and 
the  noise  were  but  strains  of  sweet  music. 

When  Juvenal  des  Ursins  joined  Duke  John 
of  Burgundy  in  the  low-ceiled  room  where  he 
had  waited  that  memorable  night  in  October, 
he  found  him  striding  to  and  fro  like  a  caged 
lion,  talking  to  his  Captain. 

"Who  is  it?"  cried  the  Duke,  hearing  a  step 
cross  the  threshold.  "Oh,  it  is  you !  Perhaps, 
my  Advocate-General,  your  advice  will  keep  me 
from  bloodshed,  a  thing  which  I  would  not 
mind  were  it  not  of  ill  omen  to  the  bride." 

"Bloodshed!"  exclaimed  Juvenal  des  Ursins 
in  horror.  "Bloodshed!  and  Lady  Beatrice 
scarce  wedded?  What  are  you  thinking  of, 
man?  Send  for  old  Simon  and  his  son  Jock — 
or,  stay — let  me  have  Madame's  man,  Jean. 
I  need  no  more.  By  parley,  by  fair  words,  by 
cajolery — I  care  not  what  you  say  to  those 
who  are  knocking  at  the  door — but  keep  them 
waiting  two  hours  at  the  most;  then,  when  I  give 
the  signal,  open  the  door  wide  and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  they  will  draw  back  like  whipped  curs ! 
Trust  me.  I  know  whereof  I  speak." 

"That  is  too  good  to  be  true!"  cried  Duke 
John.  "How  can  you  bring  this  about?  Give 
me  but  an  inkling,  just  one  word,  and  I  will 
keep  them  kicking  their  heels  and  banging  at 
my  door,  for  a  week!" 

"I  will  tell  you — I  will  whisper  in  your  ear, 
lest  the  walls  hear  and  balk  my  plan." 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  295 

"You  need  not  mind  Captain  Barbados  I"  ex 
claimed  the  Duke.  "He  is  a  Burgundian  of 
Burgundy;  as  staunch,  as  true  and  as  fearless, 
as  Duke  John  himself !" 

The  old  Captain's  face  flushed  a  deep  red. 
He  held  his  head  stiffly  erect,  his  eyes  looking 
square  at  his  Lord's  and,  in  a  deep  bass  voice 
which  made  him  rumble  out  his  words,  he  said 
emphatically : 

"None  can  be  truer,  my  lord,  to  the  House 
of  Burgundy,  than  Hannibal  Barbados !" 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,"  cried  Juvenal  des  Ursins 
heartily.  "I  do  not  doubt  it !  It  was  not  you 
I  feared — and  when  I  have  explained  to  the 
Duke,  he  will  understand." 

In  a  half  dozen  words  he  whispered  in  the 
Duke's  ear  that  which  made  the  Duke  laugh 
uproariously.  He  brought  his  clenched  fist 
down  on  the  table  near  by  with  such  force  that 
the  solid  wood  rang.  Then,  when  he  could  get 
his  breath  and  his  voice  sufficiently  under  con 
trol,  the  Duke  exclaimed  triumphantly: 

"What  ho,  what  ho !  Come  quickly,  ye 
knaves!  Where  is  Jean?  Send  him  here.  We 
want  him  at  once!" 

His  voice  reached  the  door  of  the  banquet 
ing  hall,  so  resonant  that  Jean  hastened  without 
delay  across  the  intervening  hall  to  the  door 
of  the  anteroom  where,  pushing  the  heavy  tapes 
try  aside,  he  said  with  a  low  bow: 

"I  am  here,  my  lord!" 

"Ah,  ma  foil"  exclaimed  Juvenal  des  Ursins 
animatedly.  "You  are  always  on  hand  like  a 


296  CONQUERORS  ALL 

jack-in-the-box.  It  is  not  the  Duke  that  needs 
you,  but  I.  Hasten  to  put  on  the  darkest  clothes 
you  have,  and  bring  for  me  a  long  cloak  with 
which  to  cover  this  wedding  apparel.  Have 
Jock  fetch  three  large  torches  so  that  we  may 
go  hence  without  delay.  There's  need  of  speed." 

With  another  bow,  Jean  sped  away,  and 
before  Duke  John  had  finished  giving  his  in 
structions  to  the  Captain,  he  was  again  at  the 
door,  saying  in  a  voice  half  breathless  as  he 
threw  a  dark  cloak  around  the  shoulders  of 
the  Advocate-General : 

"You  see,  sir,  I  am  ready!" 

"Open,  open,  you  knaves !  Is  not  your  Duke 
here?"  cried  the  voice  of  Comte  Bernard 
d'Armagnac.  "Know  you  not  that  every  one 
of  you  will  be  hanged,  drawn  and  quartered, 
stretched  on  the  rack,  tested  on  the  wheel,  put 
to  question,  if  you  fling  not  the  door  wide?  I 
hold  a  commission  from  the  King — a  warrant 
for  your  Lord's  arrest!  If  you  do  our  bidding 
at  once,  not  one  shall  be  harmed,  but  if  at  this 
door  we  tarry  much  longer,  it  shall  be  battered 
down,  and  when  our  men  once  enter  the  place, 
then  look  to  yourselves,  for  those  who  are  not 
killed  on  the  spot  shall  suffer  such  torture  as 
man  has  never  dreamt  of  before!" 

Then  it  was  that  clear  above  the  voice  of  even 
Comte  Bernard  himself,  rose  that  of  Duke  John 
and,  in  spite  of  all  his  intentions  to  speak  them 
fair,  it  had  a  ring  of  defiance. 

"Hark  you,  Duke  Charles  d'Orleans,  and 
you,  Comte  Bernard  d'Armagnac,  what  mean 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  297 

you  by  this  clatter?  One  would  think  that  all 
the  canaille  of  Paris  were  let  loose.  Is  this 
the  way  to  come  to  the  Hotel  d'Artois  as  wed 
ding  guests  ?  It's  a  pity  you  are  so  late  and  that 
the  fastenings  are  out  of  gear,  so  you  cannot  be 
readily  admitted  to  the  marriage  feast:  but  if 
you  will  know  we  are  doing  all  we  can  to  loose 
the  key  in  the  lock  and  the  extra  bolts  from 
the  door.  My  knaves  were  so  anxious,  so  fear 
ful  and  mistrustful  of  danger  that  they  tried  a 
new  way  to  make  things  secure.  So  successful 
have  they  been  that  it  is  only  by  chisel  and 
mallet,  by  patience  long-drawn-out,  that  the 
doors  can  be  opened  either  for  your  coming  in 
of  my  going  out ! 

"But  you,  Comte  Bernard,  with  your  pa"rty, 
while  waiting  so  inhospitably,  as  it  may  seem 
on  the  wrong  side  of  the  portal,  might  read  the 
commission  that  you  hold  for  my  arrest,  with 
the  warrants  for  the  two  fairest  of  women. 
Perchance  you  can  tell  me  where  may  be  found 
the  Due  de  Berry!" 

"What!  are  not  the  Due  and  Duchess 
within?"  exclaimed  Comte  d'Armagnac  in  in 
tense  surprise.  "We  were  told  that  they  had 
joined  you  three  hours  agone,  with  the  two 
English  lads ;  also  that  you  received  a  visit  from 
Monsieur  Moreau  whose  devotion,  peradven- 
ture,  chafing  at  our  delay,  urged  him  to  haste 
swift  of  foot  to  Madame,  that  he  might  the 
sooner  enjoy  her  loving  caresses!  As  he  has 
not  been  seen  to  leave  the  Hotel  d'Artois,  we 
feared  foul  play. 


298  CONQUERORS  ALL 

"If  you  wish  to  hear  the  commission  for 
your  arrest,  and  the  warrants  we  hold,  and 
cannot  admit  us  until  your  knaves  unfasten  the 
door,  I  will  read  them  here,  and  perchance  it 
may  quicken  their  hands,  give  strength  to  their 
arms;  and  you  may  by  that  time  deem  it  best  to 
have  the  bolts  slipped  back  and  a  way  made 
clear  for  the  carrying  out  of  the  King's  will !" 

Then  in  a  voice  so  loud  that  even  those  in  the 
banqueting  hall  were  able  to  distinctly  hear 
every  word  through  the  wide  open  grill,  Comte 
Bernard  d'Armagnac  read  both  the  commission 
and  the  warrants.  Scarcely  had  his  voice  ceased, 
when,  at  a  signal  from  Duke  John,  his  men 
hammered  at  the  door  as  though  impatient  to 
unloose  the  bars  that  they  might  admit  them. 
So  loud  was  the  noise  of  mallet  and  hammer, 
so  deafening  the  sound,  that  it  drowned  the 
voices  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  the  Count  of 
Armagnac.  As  they  heard  the  rattle  of  chisel 
and  dull  thud  of  mallet  striking  against  the  iron 
clamps  of  the  door,  their  suspicions  were  in 
part  overcome.  In  the  meantime,  Captain 
Barbedos  carried  out  to  the  letter  Duke  John's 
directions.  He  had  gathered  his  men-at-arms, 
over  a  hundred,  into  the  great  entrance  hall, 
where  he  formed  them  into  a  wedge.  Simon 
and  Jock,  with  Sandy,  now  the  proud  husband 
of  Annette,  stood  just  inside  the  door  of  the 
banqueting  hall,  ready  to  sell  their  lives  dearly 
before  any  one  should  touch  a  finger  to  their 
mistress.  More  than  once,  in  the  midst  of  the 
confusion,  Jock's  eyes  sought  those  of  Bess,  and 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  299 

although  she  tossed  her  head  in  the  old  saucy 
manner,  yet  Simon,  who  was  watching  them, 
knew  that  they  but  awaited  their  return  to 
Wotton  to  become  man  and  wife.  Long  before 
the  time  had  elapsed  which  Juvenal  des  Ursins 
had  thought  essential  for  the  carrying  out  of 
his  plan,  Duke  John  was  at  his  wits'  end  to 
devise  means  whereby  to  delay  without  blood 
shed  the  entrance  of  Due  Charles  and  Comte 
d'Armagnac.  Yet  so  fertile  was  he  of  resource 
that  on  one  pretense  or  another — by  question 
ing  the  right  of  the  King,  the  commission,  the 
authenticity  of  the  signature,  the  warrants,  the 
rights  of  Monsieur  Moreau,  he  not  only  gained 
time  but  succeeded  by  tone  and  word  in  convey 
ing  to  those  outside  the  impression  that,  in  the 
end,  for  once  in  his  life,  he  would  bow  to  the 
law. 

They  were  little  used  to  hearing  him  parley, 
knowing  that  it  was  his  custom  to  strike  the 
blow  first.  This  gave  them  confidence  and  made 
them  more  willing  to  wait  till  the  signal  agreed 
upon  between  Juvenal  des  Ursins  and  Duke 
John,  was  given.  Even  then  Duke  John  bade 
his  lackeys  refrain  from  opening  the  door  till 
after  he  joined  the  Advocate-General  in  his  pri 
vate  room  at  the  side  of  the  great  banqueting 
hall,  and  arranged  more  fully  the  denouement. 
He  came  back  once  more  to  where  Captain 
Barbedos  was  standing,  and  said : 

"Change  the  position  of  your  men.  Let  them 
form  a  half  circle  around  the  carpeted  dais, 
three  abreast,  and  mark  me,  not  until  I  cry 


300  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Tor  Burgundy!'  let  man  dare  lift  his  finger  to 
attack." 

Then  he  whispered  a  few  words  to  Simon, 
whose  face  became  radiant,  and  seeing  that  all 
was  to  his  liking,  he  bade  the  lackeys  leave  the 
hall,  except  the  major-domo  who,  at  his  signal, 
threw  open  the  door. 

"Welcome!"  cried  Duke  John  of  Burgundy. 
"Welcome  to  Hotel  d'Artois !  Pardon  me  for 
keeping  you  waiting  so  long,  Due  Charles,  and 
you,  Comte  Bernard  d'Armagnac.  Come  in 
with  your  gentlemen — yes,  your  men-at-arms,  if 
they  can  find  room,  and  after  you  have  saluted 
the  bride  then,  Comte  d'Armagnac,  if  you  can 
prove  to  me  that  you  have  a  right  to  take  me 
in  charge,  upon  the  word  of  John  of  Burgundy, 
you  shall  find  me  as  willing  to  go  with  you  as 
your  favorite  hound!  Come  in;  do  not  tarry. 
This,  also,  would  I  add: 

"That  I  fear  me  Monsieur  Moreau  has  re 
ceived  somewhat  rough  treatment  at  my  hands. 
He  prated  of  a  commission  from  the  King,  but 
I  ne'er  could  bide  the  man  nor  his  words,  so  I 
had  him  placed  in  the  keep,  under  ward  and 
key.  But  let's  forego  all  explanation  till  you 
have  saluted  the  bride!" 

With  looks  of  amazement  as  well  as  of  in 
credulity  at  this  seeming  change  in  Duke  John 
of  Burgundy,  they  followed  him,  well  escorted 
by  their  men-at-arms,  down  the  long  entrance 
hall,  beneath  floating  pennants  from  wall  to 
ceiling:  down  the  great  banqueting  room,  till 
they  stood  scarce  six  feet  from  the  carpeted  dais 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  301 

on  which  sat  the  wedding  party  with  Comte 
Philip  of  Charolais  at  their  head.  The  guests 
rose  at  their  entrance,  and  now  Comte  Philip, 
in  his  youth  and  beauty,  exclaimed  cheerfully,  as 
he  held  up  a  beaker  of  wine : 

"Let  me  too,  welcome  you,  my  cousin,  and 
drink  to  your  health  and  that  of  the  Comte  Ber 
nard  d'Armagnac!  But  first  let  me  present  to 
you  the  Earl  of  Wotton  and  his  Countess,  whom 
you  doubtless  remember  as  Madame  Moreau. 
And  here  is  the  newly  wedded  pair,  Comte 
Raoul  d'Epernon,  and  she  who  was  Lady  Beat 
rice  of  Wotton. 

"You  see  we  are  a  merry  party.  Scarce  two 
weeks  ago  was  the  Earl  married,  and  now  his 
daughter  has  followed  his  example." 

At  that  moment,  rushing  down  the  hall,  came 
Monsieur  Moreau,  crying  vehemently : 
"It  is  bigamy!    It  is  bigamy!" 

Out  flashed  his  sword,  while  his  black  eyes 
glittered  as  keen  as  its  blade,  as  he  lunged  at  the 
Earl. 

But,  rapid  as  had  been  its  thrust,  more  swift 
had  been  the  arm  of  old  Simon.  His  hand  like 
a  grip  of  steel  caught  Monsieur  Moreau's  wrist, 
and  with  a  twist  which  crunched  every  bone,  he 
drew  him  back  without  a  word,  from  the  steps 
of  the  dais. 

"That  is  well!"  cried  Duke  John  of  Bur 
gundy.  "Surely  the  man  must  be  mad.  Keep 
him  in  your  ward,  Simon  Lapland,  for  fear  my 
men  spit  him  on  the  spot.  I  would  fain  avoid 


302  CONQUERORS  ALL 

bloodshed  lest  I  bring  sorrow  to  sup  with  my 
cousin,  the  Countess  d'Epernon." 

"But,"  exclaimed  Duke  Charles  of  Orleans, 
growing  purple  with  anger,  "do  you  mean  to  say 
that  this  English  lord  has  married  Monsieur 
Moreau's  lawful  wife?  Was  he  not  aware  that 
she  had  been  wedded  before?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Duke  John  very  courteously. 
"It  was  all  explained  to  him,  if  I  mistake  not, 
seven  days  back — long  ere  I  returned  with 
Philip,  the  Comte  of  Charolais  from  the  Castle 
of  Aire.  The  Earl  with  radiant  face,  as  youth 
ful  and  blithesome  of  bearing  as  Comte  d'Eper 
non  himself,  met  me  with  the  words,  'Irene  is 
my  wife !'  Of  what  use  would  have  been  advice 
then,  when  already  he  had  taken  the  irrevocable 
step  which  linked  her  life  to  his.  He  wrote  to 
his  King,  Henry  the  Fifth,  full  particulars,  and 
received  from  him  the  promise  of  a  royal  greet 
ing  for  her  whom  he  had  chosen. 

"To-night,  just  as  you  knocked  at  the  door, 
the  archbishop  yonder,  with  hands  spread  in 
benediction  over  the  heads  of  Comte  Raoul 
d'Epernon  and  my  cousin,  Lady  Beatrice  of 
Wotton,  was  pronouncing  them  man  and  wife. 
This  was  done  with  my  connivance,  if  you  will 
and,  as  you  see,  with  that  of  the  Due  and 
Duchesse  de  Berry." 

"But  you  asked,  scarce  a  half  hour  ago," 
exclaimed  Comte  Bernard  d'Armagnac  harshly, 
"if  we  would  send  a  message  to  the  Due,  while 
all  the  time  you  knew  he  was  here !" 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  303 

Then,  as  his  suspicions  rose  higher  and 
higher,  he  cried  to  Duke  Charles  even  more 
fiercely  than  before: 

"Can  you  not  see  that  we  have  fallen  into  a 
trap  ?  Can  you  not  see  these  men-at-arms  wait 
ing  to  cut  us  down  as  we  stand  here?  Are  you 
going  to  listen  to  specious  words,  or  are  you 
going  to  carry  out  your  commission,  your  war 
rant,  and  take,  even  though  it  be  in  the  very 
jaws  of  death,  not  only  the  Due  of  Burgundy, 
but  these  women  who  claim  to  be  married?" 

"Yes,  verily!"  replied  Duke  Charles.  "Ho! 
you  my  men,  fill  up  this  hall,  and  if  you  see  one 
of  the  Burgundians  but  raise  his  hand,  then  mow 
him  down  as  though  he  was  grain  ready  for  the 
reaper.  I  will  teach  them  that,  when  I  come  in 
the  King's  name  to  do  his  bidding,  not  even  the 
retainers  of  Burgundy  can  withstand  my 
demands.  You,  Duke  John,  have  given  us  your 
word  of  honor  to  go  willingly  with  us  without 
let  or  hindrance.  Methinks  I  saw,  as  I  entered, 
two  maids.  Where  are  they?" 

"Perhaps  you  may  mean  me,"  replied  Bess 
pertly,  as  she  came  forward,  sweeping  a  curtsy, 
an  excellent  imitation  of  Madame  Moreau's. 
"If  so,  what  is  your  pleasure?" 

"My  pleasure!"  repeated  the  Duke  of 
Orleans.  "I  will  teach  you  later.  Now  go  and 
fetch  two  long  cloaks,  one  for  your  lady,  the 
other  for  Madame  Moreau  and,  at  the  same 
time,  one  for  yourself.  We  have  not  come  here 
for  feasting,  but  to  carry  out  the  will  of  the 


304  CONQUERORS  ALL 

King.  Make  haste,  lest  you  feel  my  dis 
pleasure!" 

"But,"  said  Duke  John  of  Burgundy,  "surely 
you  do  not  intend  taking  from  the  Hotel 
d'Artois — to  wrench  from  the  Earl  and  the 
Comte,  their  scarcely  wedded  wives !  Think, 
man,  how  you  would  feel  if  one  should  take  the 
Comte  Bernard's  daughter  from  you !  What 
you  would  suffer;  how  you  would  long  to  pos 
sess  her;  what  efforts  you  would  make  to  retain 
her !  Forget  not,  as  you  dwell  on  the  love  you 
have  for  your  Duchesse !" 

With  every  word  that  Duke  John  uttered, 
with  every  glance  of  his  eye  which  seemed  to 
point  his  remarks,  Duke  Charles'  choleric 
temper  rose  and  rose  until,  at  last,  like  a  pot 
filled  with  water  above  a  too  hot  fire,  it  boiled 
over,  and  impetuous  words  fairly 'dashed  against 
each  other  in  their  mad  desire  for  utterance. 

"Coward!  Knave!  Dastard!  Murderer 
of  my  father!  Slanderer  of  women!  Vile 
spawn  of  the  Queen !  Do  you  think  I  will  stand 
here  longer  to  be  cheated,  to  be  scoffed  at,  by 
such  as  you?  Not  I.  If  you  do  not  keep  your 
word:  do  not  come  at  the  King's  behest,  and 
those  painted  Jezebels  yonder  are  not  imme 
diately  given  into  my  care,  you  shall  learn  how 
heavy  can  be  the  hand  of  the  Due  Charles 
d'Orleans,  the  avenger  of  his  father!  Take 
heed,  for  even  you,  Due  John  of  Burgundy, 
have  come  to  the  end  of  your  tether !" 

"Say  you  so?"  exclaimed  the  Duke,  his  flash 
ing  eyes  speaking  the  fierce  anger  which  he  still 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  305 

held  in  check.  "Say  you  so?  And  what  think 
you,  Due  Charles,  I  shall  be  at  while  you,  with 
your  minions,  are  doing  your  worst?  But  stay, 
be  not  too  hasty,  lest  you  repent  it.  Make  your 
men  stand  back.  They  are  crowding  all  too 
fast.  As  I  have  said  before,  I  would  avoid 
bloodshed.  If  ten  minutes  hence  you  still  make 
your  demands,  by  my  troth,  by  all  that  I  hold 
the  most  sacred  in  heaven  or  in  earth,  I  will  go 
with  you  as  willing,  as  docile  as  an  innocent 
lamb  to  the  slaughter.  Make  your  men  stand 
back,  I  say!  You  can  depend  on  my  word." 

With  an  imperious  gesture,  Comte  Bernard 
d'Armagnac  bade  his  men-at-arms  draw  ten 
paces  backward  where,  with  gleaming  eyes  and 
each  right  foot  well  advanced,  like  wild  beasts 
ready  to  spring  at  his  bidding,  they  halted. 

"Will  not  you,  Due  Charles,  and  you,  Comte 
d'Armagnac,  sit  at  table  during  this  ten  minutes 
and  take  a  glass  of  wine?"  asked  Duke  John, 
apparently  forgetting  that  there  were  aught  but 
the  friendliest  relations  existing  between  them. 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  Duke  of  Orleans  bit 
terly,  "I  prefer  standing!  I  care  not  to  break 
bread  with  the  assassin  of  my  father!" 

Once  again  with  flashing  eyes  and  lips  tightly 
compressed,  Duke  John  of  Burgundy  faced 
Duke  Charles.  Then  with  a  smile,  half  sar 
donic,  half  triumphant,  he  said  in  a  ringing 
voice : 

"As  you  will!" 

As  though  these  words  were  a  signal  to  unlock 
the  door  opposite  to  where  they  were  standing, 


306  CONQUERORS  ALL 

a  signal  to  draw  back  the  heavy  portiere  which 
covered  the  entrance,  Jock,  with  one  vigorous 
thrust  of  his  lusty  young  arm,  threw  back  the 
tapestry,  opened  wide  the  door — there,  to  the 
surprise  of  all  and  the  consternation  of  many, 
framed  in  by  the  lintels  of  the  door,  stood 
Charles  the  Sixth,  King  of  France !  Behind 
him  were  the  Dauphin  and  the  Advocate- 
General,  gracious,  smiling.  Every  breath  was 
drawn  with  such  a  quick,  sudden  intake  that  it 
produced  a  sound  similar  to  the  bow  of  a  violin 
drawn  across  its  strings  before  tuning. 

As  the  King,  with  majestic  mien,  his  face 
lighted  with  the  intelligence  and  kindliness 
which  were  its  natural  expression,  attended  by 
Prince  Louis  and  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  stepped 
into  their  midst,  all  instinctively  felt  that  some 
how  the  solution  of  the  problem  was  at  hand. 

"I  see,"  said  the  King,  acknowledging  with  a 
genial  smile  the  low  obeisance  of  those  about 
him,  "that  there  has  been  some  mistake.  Per 
chance  if  I  signed  these  papers,  as  it  is  said  I 
have,  it  must  have  been  when,  with  cloudy  brain, 
I  lay  on  the  bed  of  sickness.  Scarce  an  hour 
ago,  when  Juvenal  des  Ursins,  the  Advocate- 
General,  explained  to  me  the  peculiar  situation 
here  at  the  Hotel  d'Artois,  I  did  not  wait  for 
him  to  ask  me  to  join  you,  but  bade  my  valet 
make  haste  lest  I  should  be  too  late,  and  that 
there  should  ensue  unnecessary  spilling  of  blood. 

"Where  is  the  man  that  claims  the  Countess 
of  Wotton  as  his  wife?  Let  him  step  for 
ward!" 


THE  SURPRISING  SOLUTION  307 

Simon  released  the  arm  which  hung  limp  at 
Monsier  Moreau's  side  and  he,  with  face  upon 
which  every  evil  passion  was  written,  his  eyes 
denoting  physical  suffering,  his  cheeks  pale  with 
the  pain  that  his  wrist  was  giving  him,  bent  his 
knee  to  the  King. 

"So,  it  is  you!"  exclaimed  Charles  the  Sixth, 
a  look  of  disgust  flitting  across  his  face.  "You, 
who  have  the  temerity  to  claim  the  Countess  of 
Wotton  as  your  lawfully  wedded  wife  1  You, 
who  with  vile  intent,  have  driven  her  from  one 
end  of  France  to  the  other,  knowinig  all  the  time 
that  Due  John  of  Burgundy  had  made  a  grave 
mistake;  that  the  novice  who  went  through  the 
mock  ceremony  was  not  the  monk  that  he  sup 
posed  him  to  be,  but  his  brother !  And  this, 
Queen  Isabel  tells  me,  you  have  known  for 
almost  a  year !  Still  you  have  not  relinquished 
your  pursuit,  your  tyranny,  your  traitorous 
effort  to  defile  a  ward  of  the  King.  Were  it  not 
that  I  am  loath  to  mar  this  wedding  feast  with 
a  sentence  of  death,  I  would  bid  Due  John  of 
Burgundy's  lackeys  hang  you  forthwith!  If,  in 
a  month  from  now,  I  hear  of  you  in  France, 
even  to  the  farthest  part  of  my  kingdom,  I  will 
have  you  not  only  hanged,  but  quartered.  Get 
you  gone!  The  very  sight  of  you  stirs  up  my 
wrath." 

Then  turning  to  the  Earl  of  Wotton,  he  said 
in  low  tones,  full  of  music  and  kindness : 

"You  see  that  in  following  the  instincts  of 
your  nature  you  have  married,  with  the  dispen 
sation  of  the  Pope  and  with  the  sanction  of 


308  CONQUERORS  ALL 

Charles  the  Sixth,  not  Madame  Moreau,  but 
Irene  de  Chaillot,  the  ward  of  the  King.  As 
for  you,  Comte  d'Epernon,  you  have  ever  gal 
lantly  fought  for  your  sovereign,  as  did  your 
forebears  before  you.  Perchance  you  will  not 
object  to  my  kissing  your  bride,  and  giving  into 
her  keeping  this  small  token  of  the  friendship 
of  your  King!" 

Lady  Beatrice,  smiling,  blushing  and  won 
drous  beautiful  to  look  upon,  was  led  by  her 
husband  to  his  majesty.  When  she  would  have 
knelt,  he  said  gently : 

"No  :  not  so,  my  daughter !  I  would  but  steal 
a  kiss  from  your  delicately  tinted  cheek,  leaving 
your  lips  to  your  liege  lord.  May  you  be  as 
happy  and  continue  as  pure,  as  good  and  as  lov 
ing  as  one  can  read  in  your  face  you  are  at 
present. 

"And  now  that  all  mistakes  have  been 
righted;  send  your  men,  Nephew  Charles,  from 
the  hall  and  from  the  Hotel  d'Artois.  Bid  them 
wait  where  you  will.  It  were  well  for  you  and 
the  Comte  d'Armagnac  to  join  your  King  who, 
with  the  Dauphin,  has  accepted  Duke  John's 
kind  invitation  to  the  wedding  feast.  And  let 
us,  and  all  the  world,  strive  to  overcome  that 
which  is  unforgiving  in  our  natures.  Let  us 
remember  that  in  spite  of  ignorance  and  mis 
takes,  in  spite  of  bitter  experience,  the  Infinite 
God,  out  of  His  great  love  for  all  mankind,  has 
now,  through  our  own  earnest  efforts,  through 
our  own  faith  and  trust,  made  us  conquerors." 

THE  END 


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